Luftmensch
by bisousjimin
Summary: Luftmensch: (n.) an impractical dreamer. Hermione Granger was no Luftmensch, in fact, she was quite the opposite. Which was why, when she agreed to help house Draco Malfoy in her dorms, it was a completely well-measured, logical decision. Oh Merlin help her, it definitely was not. (8th Year AU)
1. An Introduction

**Luftmensch**

_(n.) an impractical dreamer with no business sense; one with their head in the clouds _

Now, Hermione Granger was no _Luftmensch. _In fact, she was nowhere near a _Luftmensch. _It was a dainty sort of word, one that one might use to describe somebody like Luna Lovegood, whose fanciful thoughts were left untainted by the war. That was not to say, that Luna had not struggled. Locked in the Malfoy dungeons with nothing but your own feet for company, and nothing but warm stale air for dinner. and breakfast. and tea.

She almost envied Luna. Optimism was hard to find these days. The war was over, but the Wizarding World was left in tatters, the Ministry was barely coping. It had been fairly widely known that the Wizengamot had knocked on Hermione's door several times, offering her employment with increasingly high salaries each time. Hermione had refused, she meant what she had told Scrimgeour almost twelve months prior: she wanted to do something worthwhile with her time, and she had no need for galleons. She felt a sick feeling in her stomach as it turned. She remembered how it had felt when she'd given her testimony against the Death Eaters in the dark, dank courtroom. There were no more dementors, but she felt the cold spread across her spine as she recounted her story nonetheless.

Hermione shook herself out of her perambulatory thoughts. It would do no good to get lost in them now.

No, Hermione was certainly not a _Luftmensch_. She had a good heart, and a strong, clear head that rested with a certain air of heavy importance on her shoulders, as if to say: 'and what about it?' She was practical, logical, fair.

When Luna had said, in a faraway sort of dreamy voice: "I expect there will not be very many Eighth Years coming back this year, you know. You have all lost the most after all."

Hermione privately agreed with her. They had all lost so much in the war, but the dark immeasurable stain of grief had spread amongst her peers the most. It laid heavy on her stomach, and was almost certainly the catalyst towards her next sentence, which was quickly blurted out before she could stop herself.

"I'llbethere" She had said in a rush.

Luna smiled knowingly, and whatever she continued to say was lost on Hermione, who felt a slight twinge of regret in her belly. She realised now, that Ron and Harry would not be returning with her, as they had told her several weeks ago. It would be very strange not to have them with her, kind of like if she'd forgotten to take her arm or her leg with her on the Hogwarts Express. She had deliberately not thought about the decision for as long as she could put it off, but now it was presented to her, she felt herself unable to deny herself the hasty decision she had made. She had not the heart to turn back, nor the gumption to carry on forwards. It was two days until September 1st.

Oh Merlin, what had she gotten herself into?


	2. A New Beginning

As Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express, she felt a certain ache of nostalgia. It had been so long since she had stepped onto the worn carpets of the scarlet steam engine, and she summoned a comforting thought from her first year at Hogwarts, of an awkward, dumpy boy named Neville Longbottom and his elusive lumpy toad Trevor. She remembered Harry's baffled expression as she asked "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost his." Ron's face swam to the front of her mind, dirt on his nose and all. She smiled softly to herself.

Her trunk was floating slowly behind her, too heavy and full of books to carry by hand. It was a long walk to the Prefect Compartment, and the journey to it was fraught with double-takes and many-a-gasp from an awestruck first year. Hermione sighed internally. It would do no good to get snippy, but she was very tired of all the attention. She supposed that this would be how Harry had felt, and she felt a small modicum of sympathy towards him. It was indeed very irritating.

She had not been expecting it, but less than three hours after her admission to Luna Lovegood, a large tawny owl had delivered a thick parchment envelope to her window. It was stamped with the waxy shine of the Hogwarts crest, which had confused Hermione greatly, for she had already received this years book list and letter, and although woefully underprepared elsewise, she had nonetheless already read all of them. This however, was something different. She had opened the letter, taking care not to break the elegant burgundy seal, and to her surprise, a small badge had fallen out. The design was different to how it had been before. Normally, it reflected the House colours of the wearer, and was larger and more gaudy. This one was different. It was about the size of a tie pin, burnished silver. It seemed to flicker in the candlelight of Hermione's study, as the letters reflected what she had scarely begun to believe.

_"Head Girl" _

She had barely dared to think the words before. It seemed like a faroff thought, an unrealistic fantasy that paled in importance to all of the Important Things that Hermione Granger had been thinking of during the war. But here it was, in all of its silver glory. The letter accompanying it had been brief, with a promise to explain more once she had arrived. Professor McGonagall's doing, she supposed.

That was she thought of now, as she huffed into the compartment. She did not pause to glance at its contents, but silently raised her trunk into the overhead luggage rails. A slight cough sounded behind her, and she whirled round.

"Nice to see you Granger." It was Zacharias Smith who had spoken, and Hermione's insides turned to dust and crumbled as she saw the shining silver _P _emblazoned on his robes. His tone was casual but Hermione remembered what a difficult git he had been in the short time they had known eachother. Her smile did not meet her eyes.

"You too Smith, everyone." She nodded towards the other inhabitants of the carriage. Ginny, as fiery as ever, little blonde Hannah Abbott, Padma Patil, who was thankfully more astute than her sister and Michael Corner, who seemed to be sitting as far away from Ginny as he possibly could. She noted that there were no Slytherins present, and wondered privately to herself if any of them had even bothered to return.

Just then, Smith took the opportunity to clear his throat again, and Hermione frowned as he said, with every air of somebody who thought they were much more important than they actually were.

"Well then, shouldn't we get started?"

Hermione replied a little waspishly. "We should wait for the Head Boy to arrive first, it's only fair."

Zacharias scoffed, and answered bitterly. "Haven't you heard Granger? There is no Head Boy this year."

Hermione sat unmoving in her chair. "No Head Boy? Why?" She intoned a little sharply. Not that she would let Smith know, but she was more than a little shocked at this announcement. There had always been a Head Boy and Head Girl at Hogwarts, she'd thought even Neville had been up with a chance for the role. It made absolutely no sense to Hermione, and questions buzzed around her head like little gnats.

"McGonagall says nobody that was offered the post accepted it, and she doesn't think that anybody else is suitable." It was Ginny who had spoken up, and her eyes were wide with what had been left unsaid.

Hermione could only assume this meant that Professor McGonagall had offered the post to Harry. Hermione's frowned deepened. She wondered why Harry had not told her that he had been offered Head Boy. He'd told Ginny, from the sounds of things. She felt hurt bloom in her stomach and shrugged it off quickly.

"That's bollocks in my opinion." Smith's eyes hardened. "I've always pegged McGonagall as a bit of a sexist, why not any of us?"

"Thank you Smith." Hermione interrupted his tirade crisply. "Now we-"

* * *

Hermione sighed to herself for what felt like the hundredth time today. It really had been a very difficult Sorting. Many of last year's first years had insisted on being re-sorted this year, citing last year's unerrant pressure to be sorted in the "right House' and it had made for a very unconventional ceremony. Hermione had indeed noticed Slytherin's dwindling numbers. She had counted probably less that thirty people sitting at the long wooden table, and at least half of those were new students, clearly unaware of old house prejudices. She was surprised to see the shock of white-blonde hair sitting next to the rather regular-looking heads of brown and black hair.

Why Draco Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts was not remiss to Hermione. She knew it was part of his probationary terms that he should complete his education, she had of course, been at his trial and every hearing since. She remembered with a shudder how she had been forced to recount the story of her torture in the Malfoy Ancestral Home, how he had helped her, Ron and Harry escape.

Still, it had never been like Malfoy to follow the rules, so it was startling to see him in the flesh, grimace and all.

Hermione shook her thoughts free of Draco Malfoy as she walked up the stairs towards the Headmistress's office. The steps were worn flagstone, but shimmered with the residue of powerful magic that had no doubt been from the cleanup operation that had taken place over the summer. Hermione again felt the dregs of guilt scour her stomach and she admonished herself silently. It was not like her to refuse to help, but she had indeed spent the summer holed up in her study reading instead. She justified it to herself. Her magic was drained, she needed to rest, she had been on the run for months. Whatever the excuse had been, she had not wanted to see anybody until it was absolutely necessary. Alone, that was how Hermione liked to spend her time. The quiet was soothing, the books were a balm to her aching head. She was exactly where she should have been.

She sighed again. It really was a difficult day.

Hermione knocked on the heavy oak door, having said the password to the gargoyle downstairs rather unconsciously, and she supposed her feet had carried her up here rather unknowingly.

"Come in." A severe, unwavering voice sounded from inside the room. She pushed open the door, it really was quite heavy. "Ah Miss Granger, I'm glad you could join us."

Hermione flicked her gaze towards the armchair where McGonagall sat, and then over towards the figure stood facing towards the lit fireplace, his arms crossed in a defensive posture. "Now, I have brought you here today to discuss an-" she paused "I must confess that this has been a slight oversight on my part, I had not anticipated-well, Albus certainly expected." McGonagall glanced up at the kindly portrait of Albus Dumbledore. Her usual stout demeanour was changed, and her face was furrowed with rare concern quite unlike her. She tried again. "It has come to my attention that-"

The figure huffed. As it whirled round frustratedly, Hermione just now noticed the head of platinum blonde hair that had previously been bathed in firelight. "I won't do it." he spat.

"Then it will be back to Azkaban for you Mr Malfoy." Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes and spoke again with a deliberate purpose, her critical expression back. "I have been assigned your case only as Headmistress of this school Mr Malfoy, not out of some great personal favour to yourself or your family, you would do well to remember that."

Malfoy scoffed, he did not look at all mollified by the Professor's threat.

Hermione could only watch in various degrees of gaping horror as the elderly Professor explained that as a former Death Eater, Malfoy was still on probation, and would thus not be trusted to live without a chaperone. He had been the only Slytherin in the so-called Eighth Year to return, and when taken into account the great prejudice towards Slytherin house at the Ministry, Minerva was left with no other choice than to place him in the head dorms with Hermione.

Hermione swore she felt her brain rattling around her skull as the Headmistress's words sank into her skin like wounds. She gripped her wand sweatily in her pocket and spluttered her protests.

_"What?!"_

Their joint outburst was loud, but to her credit, Minerva McGonagall did not flinch. "I'm sure you heard me correctly, there will be no cause for concern. Your dorms have been adjusted accordingly Miss Granger" She spoke more for Hermione's benefit. "This will be an excellent opportunity to demonstrate inter-house unity, in a time when it is needed desperately and Albus agrees with me." She repeated stubbornly "the Ministry have insisted." The unsaid _"Malfoy must be watched"_ hung onto the end of her sentence gloomily.

Hermione noted the determination on her face, and knew from years of experience that there would be no convincing the professor otherwise. Hermione's face was one of resigned disappointment, and Malfoy stood silent a few feet away from her, but she could feel his glower on the back of her neck. She jutted her chin out in response; she would be damned if she was going to let Malfoy intimidate her.

"Fine."


	3. A Loud Houseguest

Hermione slid carefully into the steaming bath, and felt the lavender-scented bubbles wash over her soothingly. She took a deep breath, and then another, as she felt the ache from her muscles slowly fade. It had been a while since she had experienced this much physical and mental exertion, so she let the scented steam soak through her pores and wrap around her brain, emptying her thoughts completely.

Hermione loved sitting like this, her bath at home was not as big as this, nor as hot. Hermione liked her baths scalding hot and up to her chin. It was her one place of meditative tranquility, besides reading of course. Hermione loved books. They comforted her, they were her escape from the world when it was too much. Godric knows it got too much sometimes. Hermione sighed in pleasure at the thought of returning to the illustrious Hogwarts Library tomorrow. Oh, how she had missed those dusty bookshelves in the year she had been away.

She felt her anxiety melt away at the thought of the next few days. September 1st had been a Friday this year, so she had Saturday and Sunday to herself before she even had to think about going to classes. She imagined herself with a flask of steaming, fragrant tea by her side and the enticing, woody scent of a stack of Arithmancy books by the hearth of the fire. Perhaps, she'd even go to the library early and transfigure one of the uncomfortable wooden stools into a plush armchair. Maybe in some hidden nook where Madam Pince could not see her. She smiled with her eyes closed. That would be good.

A loud bang pulled her out of her meditative state.

_Malfoy. _She thought to herself bitterly. Her short-lived moment of peace was over.

She felt her anger bubble and rise in her stomach as she heard him clattering around in the kitchen. Merlin, he just had to ruin everything. She supposed he had just returned from his sulking around the castle, or perhaps terrorising some second year Hufflepuffs. She quickly began to wash herself as she felt the scowl deepen on her face . What had she been thinking? It was a rash decision to agree to Professor McGonagall's terms. Surely she could go back and reason with the Professor. She shook her head, there was absolutely no way she could let Malfoy get his own way, she could see it on his smug smirking face now.

Hermione hissed in pain. She had been scrubbing her arm aggressively, it was bright pink and tender. No, there was no way she could go to Professor McGonagall, and she couldn't sleep in Gryffindor tower with Ginny either, that would simply not do. Hermione may have acted rashly, but she was a proud witch, and no coward.

No, she definitely was not giving up, and that became apparent as she hauled herself out of the bath by her arms, pulled on her bathrobe, hair and skin still sopping wet, and stormed out of the bathroom.

Proud witch indeed.

* * *

It is true that Draco had been making as much noise as possible in their shared kitchen with the specific goal of annoying the little witch that was his forced roommate. He was not of course, doing things the Muggle way, but rather clumsily moving his wand in a fashion that just may so mean that a mug would scrape the surface of the counter, or a book would drop from a great height and announce its presence on the floor very loudly. Civil disobedience was Draco's specialty. He had no choice but to remain here, no way of getting out of it, but Salazar be damned if he wasn't going to make everyone else miserable for it.

However, it took him by surprise when Granger came storming out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a bathrobe; soaking wet and positively shaking with anger.

"How _dare_ you." She growled. She continued striding towards him, her voice trembling with anger. "You. Will. Be. Quiet." She punctuated each word with a pointed stab at his chest from her finger. Draco rolled his eyes, but felt the well of irritation that resided in his stomach just for Granger lap dangerously where his intestines met his esophagus.

Still, he rolled his eyes and leant back on the counter. "and why should I do that?" His voice was lazy and unbothered. Draco saw her face flush pink with quietly concealed rage. He was close enough to see the tea stain on her fluffy white robe, her wet curls clung to the back of her neck and he was reminded, with revulsion, of exactly how different she was to every good pureblood witch he had ever met.

"You are here out of the grace of my good heart Malfoy and you will act like it." She spat acidly. Malfoy furrowed his brow.

"_The grace of your good heart?_ Are you bonkers? You and I both know the only reason I'm here is because of that stupid old bint McGonagall, don't even kid yourself Granger, you can't help yourself. If she asked you to jump all you'd say was 'how high?'" His tone was equally as caustic.

"I would not." She screeched in protest and he smirked.

"Oh _yes_ you would Granger, you'd do anything to prove yourself_. _You can't help yourself because you can't bear the thought of anyone being better than you."

"Oh bollocks Malfoy, we know the only reason you're here in the first place is because Daddy couldn't get you out of this one, too busy locked up in Azkaban isn't he?" Granger's voice was raised and mocking. She had gone too far. Draco grabbed her wrist and twisted it painfully, jabbing his wand into the underside of her jaw as he spoke, anger burning around his ears, his voice low and dangerous.

"You will _not_ talk about my family Granger. Never. Do you hear me?" He shook her, and as if to make his point, hot silver sparks flickered from his wand. She whimpered. He was close enough now to count the vile freckles on her stupid upturned nose. Her eyes were narrowed in defiance, but they still shone with poorly disguised fear. She was a stupid Gryffindor through and through alright, her semblance of bravery was pathetic.

"Get off me." She whispered and her voice trembled and grew in volume "I said get off me!"

"Where's your wand Granger?" He jibed, his voice low. She shook. "I said _'where's your wand, Granger?'" _His voice became teasing, but he loomed over Hermione, their obvious physical differences very apparent. _"_Not so smart now, are we. Tut tut Granger, Potter won't like that. Forgetting your wand in a confrontation with _a known enemy_." She struggled against him but did not dare use her free hand to attack him, his wand was still at her throat. Clever witch, Draco surmised.

He loosened his grip and she pulled herself free quickly. There was a red burn mark on her neck and it was a stark contrast to her pale skin.

"Go to hell Malfoy." Her voice broke and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears but she did not stop glaring at him.

"I'm already in hell" Draco laced these poisonous words with venom and Hermione recoiled, looking shocked. He felt a twinge of something unrecognisable.

"I hate you." The way she whispered it with such conviction laid a funny sort of feeling on Draco's chest, but he shrugged it off without thinking.

"Likewise." He did not wait for a reply, and instead strode towards the room labelled 'D.L.M.', banging the door behind him.

* * *

Hermione sank to the floor, letting the frustrated sobs overtake her body. She don't know why she had let him affect her so much. This was going to be a long year.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading so far! Please send feedback and reviews! :)**


	4. A Branch of Friendship

Hermione shifted protectively over her essay. She was sure she could see Ernie Macmillan craning his neck out of the corner of her eye. It was different, after the war. She was more aware of people, constantly looking over her shoulder for danger. _Constant vigilance_, as Mad-Eye would have said.

She stared at the tip of her quill, unable to concentrate. Advanced Transfiguration was usually a topic Hermione had no trouble with, not that she really had trouble with any of her subjects at Hogwarts (besides Divination in her third year). However, it had been three days since she'd had that argument with Malfoy, and she'd been unable to put it out of her mind. She mused to herself. She'd in fact hardly even seen Malfoy the past few days. If she hadn't have heard the slam of his door every evening before she went to bed and just after she woke up every morning, she doubted she'd even remember that he lived here.

Still, it wasn't as if his presence was welcomed around her. The burn mark on her neck had not healed despite the copious amounts of burn paste Hermione had applied, and she contemplated owling George to see if he had any solutions. She remembered the bruise paste the twins had given to Harry the previous year. Hermione felt her throat constrict a little at the thought of Fred and George: she'd hardly even seen George since the Battle of Hogwarts. Ron said that he was coping, but barely. That unfortunately seemed to echo the feelings of the rest of the Weasley family. Mrs Weasley had taken to clutching Fred's hand that had fallen off her magical clock when he had died. Percy still hadn't gone back to work, but had gone to stay with Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage instead. Ron said that he still blamed himself for what had happened. Even Ginny did not have the same spark that she used to, her eyes were permanently tinged with sadness.

Hermione rested her head in her hands wearily, she wished she'd gotten more sleep last night. It was getting very late. The sun had long since set, and if she had bothered to lift her head and look in the window, she would see that the sky was inky black and twinkling with dim stars. However, it would not do to fall behind, so she tried to ignore how the drowsy feeling draped over her eyelids and made them heavy and her brain slow and sluggish. Instead, she began tracing over the words in the hefty tome in front of her. _'The incantation Reparifage is most often used to reverse unsuccessful-'_

She started as a voice knocked her out of her reverie.

"Granger, I really thought we should go over these prefect timetables you know, you've got Hufflepuff 8th Years down for nightly patrols twice a week, surely one of the Sixth Years can take over?" It was Zacharias Smith, and she groaned. when she did not reply, he shook a piece of parchment above her head imperiously, as if to demonstrate the importance of his statement. Hermione grimaced; at that moment she wished memory charms were legal, then she might charm him to forget about whatever he had just said, and possibly herself in general, so she might have some peace.

"Unfortunately Zacharias, Professor McGonagall has decided it would be more appropriate that older Prefects should take on more responsibility than the younger students this year. You must also remember that the Prefects only come from three houses now, not four. It's only natural that there are more patrols. If you have an issue with it I suggest you take it up with the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Slughorn, or perhaps the Headmistress herself. I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear your plight" She did not bother to turn around, and repressed the urge to bang her head against the table. It was true that, despite the so-called 'extra year' at Hogwarts, they were still struggling to fill the hole that Slytherin had once occupied. Hermione herself had signed herself up for solitary rounds four times a week, as well as supervision for Hogsmeade weekends, if they were still to take place.

With a glare from a prowling Madam Pince, Zacharias made a noise of assent, clearly not entirely appeased. Hermione heard his footsteps stomp away not a few seconds later. She waited a minute, then a minute more and then decided it would be safe to retreat from the comforting pages of her transfiguration textbook. She turned around, and mouthed to Ernie behind her _"what a nightmare." _He laughed quietly and shook his head as Hermione turned back to her work and began chewing on her quill. Well, it was nice to know she still had some friends.

Her mind drifted as she read the same line over and over again, and she felt her head drooping. She let it rest against her arms, her eyes shut and work long forgotten.

* * *

"Hermione..."

"Hermione." A mildly nervous voice thrummed around Hermione's eardrums. She opened one eye blearily. It was Neville, peering at her concernedly. "Are you alright? You've fallen asleep in the library again." Her neck was noticeably sore and she flexed it as Neville continued to blabber "I've been here a few hours, you've missed breakfast of course, but I thought you'd like some tea at least." He proffered a steaming mug of English Breakfast tea and smiled sheepishly. "I've been working on my warming charms you see, never been too good at those." Hermione knew his self deprecation probably had something to do with his gran, Augusta. She had spent numerous hours over the past eight years attempting to help Neville in several subjects, and charms was one of them. Augusta had never liked charms, but Neville had pursued it nonetheless. Warming charms were a third year task.

She took the tea. "Thank you Neville."

He also produced some squashed slices of buttered toast from beneath a small mountain of Herbology books that rested on his arm that had not been holding the tea. Hermione took them gratefully, and he sat at the desk next to her.

"How have you been?" He said, voice mild.

"Ah you know, Hogwarts is Hogwarts." She tried to say it dismissively, but it sounded resigned.

"You know, you don't have to pretend to be okay Hermione." Neville began thoughtfully. "I know what it's like, and all of us are here for you. Me, you, Luna, Seamus." He turned to look earnestly at her. "Look, I know we're no Harry or Ron, but us Gryffindors look out for eachother. We know you've got a lot on your plate this year, and we want to help."

Hermione resisted the urge to point out that Luna was in Ravenclaw.

"I know it must have been hard to be on the run, especially for all that time. I remember when I first started to hide from the Carrows, I felt like I'd never feel safe again. The war's over now, but we still have to rely on each other, we still have each other to depend on. All of our struggles didn't disappear when You-Know-Who died."

As she looked into his solemn eyes Hermione was struck with the sudden thought that Neville had grown up since she had last seen him. He was no longer the short, timid boy she had known him as before the war. His face was filled with honesty, and she felt a warm feeling growing in her belly at the branch of friendship he had extended her.

She smiled and thanked him again before checking her watch. She jumped up, startled, before saying frantically "I was meant to be at Arithmancy fifteen minutes ago! Neville, will you help me?" They gathered her things hurriedly, and Neville ran with her to class, apologising all the way. Maybe he hadn't changed that much after all. Before she had the chance to rush through the door, he stopped her.

"Come to Gryffindor Common Room tonight, about 8pm. It's the only night Ginny's got off from Quidditch practice this week, and we're all gonna play exploding snap and have tea. You should come and play with us, we badly need another player." The excuse was weak, and both of them knew it, but with their earlier conversation in mind Hermione nodded and said

"Sure, catch you later Neville!"

She strolled into Arithmancy feeling a weight lifted off her chest. She was sure absolutely nothing could ruin her good mood.

The benches in the Arithmancy classroom were arranged in a amphitheater style format and for Hermione to creep into her seat on the third row would be practically impossible. Still, she attempted it anyway.

"Late, Miss Granger, that's not like you." Hermione peered up at the disapproving face of Professor Vector from where she was crouched, hoping her cloud of hair would detract from her embarrassed cheeks.

"Sorry Professor, I fell asleep in the library."

The elderly witch nodded. "See that it does not happen again."

Hermione returned her nod gratefully and rushed to her seat, pulling out her books and parchment as she clambered across the bench.

"Oi, Granger." She heard someone whisper loudly.

She turned around. Malfoy was leaning towards her conspiratorially from a few rows up. "Thats a poor excuse if I ever heard one, think of a believable one next time." He was deliberately trying to antagonise her! She turned back around, opening the jar of ink to her left and shaking her head. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to ignore him.

"I doubt even someone as sad as Granger would spend that much reading." Draco continued nastily.

When she didn't reply, he sneered in disbelief. "Oh wait, don't tell me. You were actually _telling the truth_. That's _pathetic_. Don't you have Saint Potter and Weaselbee to mother anymore?" He paused for dramatic effect. "or did they get tired of you too." She heard several people laugh.

Hermione clenched her wand in her hand underneath the table and hoped that he could not see her humiliated expression. Her teeth were gritted. _Your insults suck Malfoy. _She thought to herself as she flicked her wand carelessly from beneath her seat. She heard him hiss in pain and grinned. Those boils should keep him quiet.

"I'll get you back for this Granger, just you wait."

Hermione paid him no mind. Inflicting retribution on Malfoy had given her a surprising amount of comfort and as she settled back into her seat, she daydreamed of other scenarios in which she hexed Malfoy. Again, and again. A smile spread across her face.

This day was shaping up to not be too shabby at all.


	5. A Bottle of Brandy

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me a few days to update, been really busy! please review if you enjoyed it (or if you didn't lmao) :)**

Hermione made her way up to Gryffindor Tower feeling better than she had done in several months. She wasn't often vindictive, but as Rita Skeeter and now, Malfoy would tell you, if you crossed her, there would be hell to pay.

And hell is exactly what he would get. She thought determinedly to herself as she climbed the moving staircase. He had no right to call her names anymore, she'd not expected them to become fast friends exactly, but this was taking it to a new level. Perhaps it was because she no longer had Ron or Harry to vent to, but she felt strangely glad at the prospect of being around friends.

"_Tandem pax._" she spoke confidently to the Fat Lady's portrait and it swung open without consternation.

"Hermione!" She was greeted by a flurry of red hair and a tight hug.

"Oh hi Gin" She hugged her back with equal enthusiasm. They broke apart.

"I was just going down to the feast to grab some dinner, you should come! Nev and Seamus won't be up for ages, I swear they eat double what they used to." Ginny explained animatedly with a roll of her eyes.

Hermione chuckled and retorted back: "only because Ron never left them anything." She managed a brief smile before waving Ginny out of the portrait. She thought of Ron shoveling bacon down his throat and laughed softly to herself. He had always been a bit of a pig.

Sitting down on a crimson plush pouffe, she took a deep breath and took in the comforting surroundings of Gryffindor Common Room. She had missed their tapestries, the gleaming gold of the enchanted banners reflected the fireplace and made the roaring flames flicker prettily across the round room. The wood crackled and spat out embers onto the worn flagstone periodically. It was practically packed, and Hermione reveled in the delighted hum of a hundred working students. It was nice to be back somewhere where she was welcome, and again her thoughts flickered over to Malfoy, safely deposited in her so-called private rooms. She scowled as she thought of his stupid prat self invading her sanctuary. Still, she doubted that he'd ever be welcomed back into the dungeons the way she'd been to Gryffindor Tower and so she sat back, mollified.

"Wotcha Hermione." It was Neville and Seamus, armed with platefuls of roast potatoes and gravy, carrots, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and peas. "Ginny told us that you weren't coming down, so we just decided to bring dinner to you." Seamus grinned lopsidedly.

Hermione felt a burst of warmth spread across her cheeks. "Thanks Sea." She said quietly, smiling ear to ear. "It's good to see you both."

"Likewise" Neville replied with a mouthful of potatoes. He pulled out a pack of cards from his pocket.

"Is Luna coming?" Hermione asked curiously, it was rare that a student from another house would be welcomed into the common room.

"She was" Neville said between chews. "Says there's too many Wrackspurts around Gryffindor today." He shrugged as if to say -that's Luna- and Hermione agreed with him, it did sound a lot like the flighty Ravenclaw. A comfortable silence fell upon the group for several minutes as they portioned out the food that the boys had brought, Neville taking the plate of half-eaten potatoes sheepishly.

"'Mione, have you spoken to Harry or Ron recently?" Ginny appeared from behind the chintz armchair that Seamus was sitting in, bowl of ice cream in hand.

She shook her head. "I've written once or twice, I haven't got anything back."

Ginny appeared disappointed. "Me neither, I figured maybe they were just really busy with training and all that." Her tone was glum.

"Auror training takes three months, I wouldn't start worrying yet." Hermione echoed woodenly despite the worry twisting around her own brain.

"Enough of the depressing boy talk eh, lets just have fun." Seamus produced a large bottle of butter brandy out of seemingly thin air.

Hermione gasped in protest but he cut her off with a knowing look. "Don't start Granger."

She shuffled in her seat, prodding her carrots with a silver fork primly. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Right." She looked back up and he was smirking at her.

"Don't make me throw this fork at you Finnegan."

"That's enough violence kiddos, come on, we've got a game to play. Nev, you keep score." said Ginny

Hermione looked away from Seamus quickly, before resolving to focus on the game.

It would not do to lose so easily.

* * *

"No- no I definitely won that one Finn- Finnegan" Hermione hiccuped, stumbling slightly.

"Not true, I saw you slip a card under the table."

"I did not!" Hermione's eyes were bright with indignation. She poked him with her wand in the center of his chest.

"Yeah you did." Seamus returned cheekily, his own eyes shining with challenge. Both of their faces were sooty, and he was missing half of his left eyebrow.

"You're wrong." Hermione twirled down the corridor. She was not far from her dormitory.

Jogging, he caught up to her quickly, smiling lopsidedly again. "You're definitely drunk though." They stopped in front of a painting of a bowl of grapes.

"Oh yeah." She turned to look up him, smile still on her face. "How do you know?"

He paused. "Because you'd never let me do this if you weren't." He gripped her waist with one grimy hand and before Hermione could stumble out a confused "wha-" he was kissing her. It was sound and sweet, chaste. He pulled her closer and tried to put one hand in her hair. Hermione was too shocked to move.

When she didn't kiss him back, he released her, a searching look on his face. She looked into his familiar brown eyes, lost for words.

"Goodnight Seamus." She finally managed in a firm voice.

"G'night Mione." He ran his hands over his eyes blearily, and she turned to the grapes.

"_veridium et rubrum_" she whispered.

She swung the door shut behind her, leaning against it for a moment. She felt rather dizzy. Her momentary respite did not last long.

"Had fun Granger?" Draco stood up from the armchair he was previously sat. His voice was loud and demanding and he turned to face her. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his tie -Slytherin-green, she thought- was undone.

She ignored him, prim once more. Her hands were shaking as she fussed to undo the clasp of her cloak.

"I said, did you have_ fun_, Granger." His voice was mocking and Hermione pressed her lips into her teeth as she fought to keep quiet, kicking off her shoes. "Seamus Finnegan huh?"

"Shut _up_ Malfoy." Her voice was unnaturally high. Hermione felt the weight of this evenings activities fall on her shoulders.

"I do wonder what Weasley will think of that little development. Hasn't he fancied you for um," he pretended to think "eight years?"

"_Shut up_!" Hermione didn't know whether it was the alcohol burning in the pit of her stomach that was egging her on or just eight years of pure frustration; she had felt the keen sting of rage and guilt when he mentioned Ron. "What is wrong with you Malfoy? The war is _over_. You hear me? It's over." She stepped towards him, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. "We saved your life in the Room of Requirement, your blood prejudices are finished." His eyes narrowed, grey and stormy. They were practically toe to toe and she swayed slightly, leaning up to him. "You're pathetic. Grow up."

"You think I'm pathetic? I'm not the one hexing people under the table in class. I'm not the one who was just skipping around the hallways drunk with Seamus Finnegan. Yes Granger, I can smell the brandy on your breath." He scoffed hotly at her bewildered look. "You're the Head Girl, the perfect Gryffindor _war-hero_ Princess, I thought Hermione Granger would know better than to drink on school premises. I thought _War-Heroes_ didn't curse people when their backs were turned." Hermione suddenly didn't like where this conversation was going, and she placed both hands on his chest and pushed him away firmly.

"You're deflecting."

"Am I?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Don't." She whispered. He rounded back on her.

"I think Professor McGonagall would be very interested to hear this, don't you?" He poked the hollow of her collarbone with every word, and Hermione felt each miserable syllable wash over her.

"Why are you doing this?" She murmured, looking up at him hopelessly. This was surely the end of her tenure as Head Girl, she would never live this down. What would Ron and Harry say?

"Stay away from Finnegan." He said quietly.

"What?"

"Stay away from Finnegan." He repeated, firmer this time. "And I won't tell McGonagall." Hermione could hardly believe her ears.

"Or Harry or Ron?" Perhaps this was pushing her luck.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Or either of those two idiots."

Hermione nodded. "I promise, I'll stay away from him."

Malfoy seemed satisfied with her response.

To anyone who would ask, Hermione would insist only that the next few moments were entirely hallucinatory, owing entirely to her sluggish, intoxicated brain.

Indeed, Draco reached out, slid his arm down her shoulder and gripped her arm gently. "Get to bed Granger." He murmured softly, the action entirely too considerate for somebody with the surname Malfoy. Hermione now had the where-with-all to register that he smelt faintly of wood smoke and that clean-boy-washing-powder smell, and she wondered what exactly she should do with that information.

"Okay." She nodded, her feet remaining firmly planted where they had been for the past nine minutes. Hermione did not know when they stopped screaming at eachother, but she found that she rather liked this soft manner in which they were currently speaking. She raised her hand and rested on it on the wrist that held her arm. His skin was surprisingly warm.

"You're drunk Granger." His voice was smooth and deep and reprimanding. Hermione felt it run down the back of her spine and she shivered. They stayed like this for several moments.

"Why?" She asked. Their noses were almost touching. It was probably the alcohol, but he had a rather nice nose, she decided. It was slightly crooked, like it had been sloppily healed after it had been broken. The crook of Hermione's lip twitched at the memory.

"Why-what?"

"Why do I need to stay away from him?" Her voice was hardly a whisper, eyes hidden by her lashes.

"I'll tell you when you're older." His voice was light and teasing, barely even there. She blinked. When she was older? She was older than him thank you very much. It was hard to miss the mountain of presents and sweets he received in the Great Hall to much fanfare each year.

Hermione released a breath she didn't realise she was holding and let go of Malfoy as if she'd been burnt. The spell had been broken. "Get lost Malfoy."

"Get to bed Granger." He said again flatly. She fled to her room, not daring to look back. She slammed her door as he shouted after her:

"I meant what I said."

Hermione did not know whether he had meant the argument five minutes ago, or his threat from Arithmancy this morning. She closed her eyes in mortification. What had just happened? Merlin, she would never drink again. How could she have been so careless? She began to pace, only interrupted from her internal monologue by a folded sheet of parchment, lying in the middle of her perfectly-made bed.

It was the Marauders Map. It sat unassumedly on her baby blue covers. Hermione felt dread fill her stomach. Had Malfoy been spying on her? Why had he been in her rooms? How did he know how to use it? She longed to storm into the common room, to question him. The tendrils of embarrassment kept her on her bed. She retracted her earlier statement. Today had been a disaster.

_Luftmensch._


	6. A Declaration of War

Hermione woke up the next day to the usual sound of Malfoy's door slamming open and she sighed, rolling over and burying her head under the pillow. With no wards, it would take less than two seconds to place a silencing charm around her bedroom. However, whether out of sheer habit or _constant vigilance_, Hermione's entire dormitory was heavily warded, and it would take approximately two hours to detangle a _muffliato_ or _silencio_ from her mess of defensive enchantments. She was beginning to consider it.

She sighed again, stretching before pulling on her fluffy robe. She stepped into her slippers and shuffled out of her bedroom, attempting to ignore the thumping in her head. Malfoy stood in the small kitchen with his back to her. She noted with some amusement that his pyjamas were blue cotton, and striped. She'd expected something more like emerald green silk.

A clatter of mugs alerted Malfoy to her presence and she ignored his probing eyes, preferring to instead ask

"Tea?" As if they were mere acquaintances and not bitter enemies. Malfoy recoiled.

"Uh, no. I drink coffee." He muttered gruffly. He busied himself by lighting the stove with his wand.

"I didn't know Harry gave you back your wand." Hermione blurted before she could stop herself.

"Yeah well, that's Saint Potter for you, can't help himself can he." Malfoy added bitterly: "It's tracked anyways."

Hermione felt herself deflate slightly at his words. She had forgotten that he was still on probation, still being monitored. "There's no need to be so rude, Harry did save your life, you know, twice." She said waspishly. It was dreadfully arrogant of her, but it seemed being around Malfoy brought out the worst in her.

"Yeah whatever, _Saint Potter_. When I get off probation I'll be sure to give him another Order of Merlin, 1st Class. How many has he got now, six?" He pushed past her, mug of steaming black coffee in his hand. Hermione couldn't help but feel like his words lacked their usual venom. Perhaps he was getting sick, she thought hopefully.

She poured her tea from the steaming kettle as she began to remember the previous night.

Draco had used the Marauders Map to spy on her. He had blackmailed her. She had complimented his nose (in her head, of course). Seamus had kissed her. He knew. She was suddenly much less lofty, and opted to rush after him.

"Malfoy, how did you know I was with Seamus last night?" She demanded, tapping him on his shoulder. He had one hand on his doorknob, the other still holding the mug.

He looked at her, heather-grey eyes calculating. "Look, Granger. I don't know when you became comfortable with touching me but I certainly did not give you permission to molest my person so I suggest you. Get. Off." Hermione withdrew her hand quickly.

"You're still deflecting. Tell me how you knew where I was." She countered.

Malfoy opened his mouth and then closed it, with the predatory air of a snake that was taking their time to administer a final poisonous blow.

"Why," his voice dripped like honey. "I just looked at the map you left out in your rooms. It was _most_ illuminating." With that, he opened the door and disappeared behind it.

All of her suspicions confirmed, Hermione could do nothing but gape noiselessly at the closed door, one million questions buzzing around her still-aching head.

* * *

She did not see Seamus or Malfoy until Defense against the Dark Arts, almost four hours after the confrontation in the common room. She had elected, probably in a cowardly fashion, to skip breakfast, and had taken refuge in the library all morning.

She avoided eye contact with the both of them, preferring instead to nod in familiarity to the teacher standing at the front of the classroom.

Professor Hestia Jones smiled warmly at her as the rest of the students began milling into the classroom. Though not a student, Hermione was glad to see her. Hestia had a brilliant mind and a keen eye for defense. Hermione knew this because she had been entrusted with the protection of Harry's aunt and uncle during the war, as had the new Muggle Studies professor, Dedalus Diggle. When they had come out of hiding, Hermione was more than pleased to hear that she was going to be teaching at Hogwarts, as her brilliance would have been wasted at the Ministry.

"Psst." She heard a lilting Irish voice say to her left. Hermione remembered Draco's words and did her best to pretend like she hadn't heard. Dipping her quill in ink and writing the date at the top of her parchment she heard it again.

"Psst, Hermione." Hermione pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to prevent herself from saying anything. This was torture. She daren't look at poor Seamus's face.

"That's enough Mr Finnegan, everyone, pipe down." Professor Jones clipped. Hermione was grateful for the interruption, she buried herself in the textbook in front of her. It was all fairly easy stuff, but still a welcome reprieve from the chaos raging in her head.

Minutes later, she felt an enchanted paper aeroplane hit the back of her head.

**Meet me after class?**

**-Sea x**

Hermione folded it into quarters carefully and placed it under her chair. Her hands itched with the need to reply, but she did not act. A few minutes more, and she saw another fragment of parchment float onto her desk, albeit a bit more gracefully.

**Good girl**

There was no name, but she knew who it had come from. The handwriting was sloping and elegant, and her eyes traced over the curl of the two words for a few seconds. Her spine was rigid, and she tore the paper into shreds, hands shaking. Not satisfied, she then wordlessly set it on fire. Although nothing to do with the heat emanating from the tiny blaze, Hermione could still feel his words burning on her cheeks and the back of her neck. It was exposed, and she suddenly regretted tying her hair up today. The actual burn on the underside of her jaw tingled as a reminder as to exactly what he was capable of.

"Miss Granger! No conjuring fire in class! Five points from Gryffindor." Hermione felt sufficiently admonished.

The bell rang almost fifty minutes later and Hermione rushed out of the classroom before anyone else, her whole face flushed with visible humiliation. She passed Seamus's desk on the way out and the look on his face was dreadful. She remained deep in thought almost all the way to the library, so much so that she did not notice a pale hand pulling her into a small alcove on the fifth floor.

She fought the urge to scream and instantly her wand was out and pointed at her assailant. "Why did you make me do that?" She began hotly. "That was horrible. I _feel_ horrible Malfoy." Her eyes flashed and her chest was slumped with guilt.

"Well all things considering, I thought you did rather well." He sounded unperturbed, despite the wand aimed between his eyes.

"I hate this. I hate _you_." Hermione whispered angrily, silently casting a _muffliatio_ around them, just now realising that they were not in their dorm, and could in fact be heard. "I don't want to do this to Seamus!"

Draco hummed, ignoring her. "Nice touch, the fire I mean. You should have seen his face."

"I didn't set his note on fire! That was yours!" She protested.

"Ah yes, but that wasn't what poor Mr Finnegan saw was it? All he saw was the witch of his dreams set fire to a piece of parchment."

"I am not the _witch of his dreams_!" Hermione paused. "That's not funny!"

"Oh but I think it rather is." His drawl was deliberate, and Hermione was once again reminded of a stalking predator. "I think it's rather funny that a wizard like Finnegan would think himself capable of handling a witch." _Like you. _The sentence hung unfinished in the air and Hermione closed her eyes in embarrassment.

Draco took the opportunity to pull his own wand out of his robes and pressed it to her neck. She whimpered.

"Give me your wand Granger." Draco's voice was curiously flat.

"You've got to be joking!" She stammered furiously. "I'm not giving you my bloody-"

Hermione's wand flew out of her hand and into Draco's pocket. He leaned closer, pressing his forearm into her collarbone. "Don't underestimate your enemy Granger." His voice was low and harsh. "I think you forget that I am not a good wizard. I do not play by such idle rules." Hermione felt the cool stone against the back of her Oxford.

"You have not been on your guard recently Hermione." He drew her given name out, toying with the syllables. "Tut-tut Granger, drinking with a mélée of Gryffindors, falling asleep in the library, hexing your classmates behind their back. I do _suggest_ you refrain from threatening to curse me in the future." The dangerous emphasis he placed on the last sentence suggested it was not merely a polite request. She remembered her declaration to herself and raised her chin defiantly.

"I'm not afraid of you Malfoy."

"You stupid Gryffindors." Draco spat. "You're always pretending that you aren't afraid of snakes. I could curse every single freckle off your bloody nose if I wanted to." His voice smoothened, and he coaxed mockingly. "Now how about that promise?"

Hermione cursed him angrily in her head. "Absolutely no way. No way in_ hell_."

He tutted. "Big mistake Granger. You might end up regretting that."

With that, he was gone, and Hermione's wand clattered noisily to the floor. Hermione quickly bent down to pick it up, clutching at it as if she'd lost an arm. Had she just declared war on Draco Malfoy?


	7. An Interrogation

The next few weeks passed in a bit of a blur for Hermione. She hardly spoke to Malfoy, if only to jibe at eachother occasionally, and avoided Seamus at all costs. It was hard to shake the feeling of guilt, and unfortunately that meant she was ignoring the rest of her friends too. Hermione had taken to avoiding the Great Hall entirely, and in fact she couldn't remember the last time she'd been at the feast. Instead, she'd taken to the kitchens, and with a sheepish promise to give up knitting entirely, the House Elves were more than happy to accommodate her at her infrequent mealtimes.

Otherwise, she took refuge in a large squashy armchair in the Restricted Section of the library. With permission from Professor McGonagall, she was the only student actually allowed in there at all times, and Hermione welcomed the muffled quiet. Ever since Malfoy's lecherous promise she found herself getting more and more headaches, a byproduct of thinking too much, she had decided. Although it seemed counterproductive, reading was the best way to banish the questions rattling her skull, and so most late nights she disappeared into the soft candlelight of the library, long after it had closed. Being Head Girl had some privileges, she thought to herself as she sipped from her flask of tea.

It also came with its own set of problems, and Hermione was dismayed to find that she had once again forgotten to complete her rounds. She hadn't been this careless since her third year, and she hastened to pack her bag. She'd barely gotten out of her chair before a silvery patronus had floated through the stacks. It was a tabby cat, and Hermione felt her heart thump loudly. Had Draco reported her?

"_The Headmistress would like to see you in her office. The password is Chocolate Frog_."

Hermione practically ran to the gargoyle. "Chocolate Frog." Her heart was not beating in her chest anymore, but approximately around ear level.

"Ah Miss Granger, I assume you got my message? I apologise for the late hour, though from the looks of things you were not yet in bed." Professor McGonagall was sitting behind the desk, lips pursed in a thin line. Hermione was panting and she fought to catch her breath. "Please, sit down." She gestured to one of the stools in front of the desk, and Hermione took it gratefully.

"Thank you Professor."

"Have a biscuit Miss Granger." The Professor's voice was stern and Hermione started in surprise.

"Pardon?" Professor McGonagall gestured to the tin sitting on her desk.

"Have a biscuit." Hermione took a custard cream, feeling very much as if it was not up for discussion and pretending as if she did not feel like she was having an out of body experience because Minerva McGonagall was offering her a plate of baked goods.

"Now Hermione, I am sure that you are aware that you have been neglecting your rounds over the past few weeks. May I remind you that it is your duty as Head Girl to set a good example for the rest of the Prefects and indeed the entire student body." Her voice was kindly, as if speaking to a petulant grandchild. "However, I must also acknowledge that you have placed entirely too much responsibility on your shoulders, and perhaps I have encouraged it a little too much." Her voice was heavy as she continued. "Some particular Prefects-" Hermione thought of Zacharias Smith angrily. "-have confessed their distrust of your abilities as Head Girl. With that in mind, I have decided to reduce your schedule to a single patrol on Monday evening." Hermione tried to open her mouth to protest but the Professor soldiered on.

"You must not take this as an insult Miss Granger, I assure you, I had the utmost confidence in your abilities but you _are_ looking rather worn, Professor Binns tells me you have been falling asleep in his class, your homework has not been up to its usual standard and I have hardly even seen you in the Great Hall at mealtimes. You must remember that your health is your first priority, and not your studies nor your duties to Mr Weasley or Mr Potter." Hermione felt thoroughly chewed out.

"Yes Professor." She said meekly.

"This will not end up like third year, will it?" Her voice was back to its usual sternness.

"No professor."

"That being said, I do have another request of you. There is a Eighth Year student in need of some tutoring in a number of subjects, mainly Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Do you think you could spare some time out of your schedule, several evenings a week perhaps?" It was a surprising request, and Hermione felt her fears dispelled somewhat. Professor McGonagall clearly still trusted her enough to help another student. Draco had not yet told her.

"I'd be happy to. Who is it?" Hermione asked.

"I have not yet asked them if they would like to participate, although it won't be a request. It is imperative that they pass these classes Hermione. For now I suggest anonymity be the most prudent action, yes?" Her brow furrowed, not entirely happy with the brush off but she remained silent.

She nodded her acquiescence. "Now, off to bed with you child, it is much too late for you to still be out of bed." Professor McGonagall shooed her out of her office moments later, promising to owl her the list of term activities and Hogsmeade dates as soon as they had been finalised. Hermione was nothing if not persistent.

* * *

The next few days were a little clearer to Hermione. If a large looming figure named _Responsibility_ had been following her around since term started, it was no longer. She had taken great delight in charming the floors slippery whenever Zacharias Smith walked past her, and although she was sure he suspected her, he had no proof and Hermione was glad it was one thing someone did not have to hold against her.

Her good mood it seemed, did not extend to Draco Malfoy, who had taken to skulking around the dorms as if his mere presence would dissuade her from being there. He spent several hours a week swearing and prostrating at his Advanced Charms homework. Hermione had no mind to help him, as he consistently spat insults at her whenever she'd attempted it. He kept out of her way besides this, and annoyingly, Hermione had noticed. She longed to question him about his spying, not to mention his strange, erratic behaviour.

She decided to take her opportunity one blustery October night. The rain pounded down on the windows and the wind whistled through the cracks of the castle stone. They both sat in silence in the common room, Hermione sipping her tea and working on the latest plans for Halloween decorations. She couldn't quite see what he was working on but it looked important. He had blue ink smudged across his cheek and his hair looked like it had been ran through with his fingers several times.

She shuffled in her seat uncomfortably. Where to start? It was hard to admit to herself but their last encounter had scared her. Perhaps his actions on the night she had come back from Gryffindor Tower had lulled her into a false sense of security. He raised his head and looked at her with bored eyes.

"What is it Granger?"

"I didn't say anything." She said quickly.

He leant back on his chair, stretching languidly like a cat. "You were thinking it though, it's dreadfully obvious." Hermione bit back a defensive retort as he continued. "Go on then, out with it."

"Well," she started cautiously. "I want to ask you some questions about that night when I came back from Gryffindor Tower."

He chuckled and crossed his arms. "I wondered how long that would take. Congratulations Granger, you lasted a whole three weeks." His sarcastic tone cut through her and Hermione felt mildly irritated. Trust him to ruin the mild civility they had cultivated recently.

"Why were you spying on me? How did you know how to use the map? Why were you in my rooms?" Civility apparently forgotten, she let the torrent of questions spill from her mouth in a rush.

Draco rolled his eyes, infuriatingly calm. "I was looking for something, it's not my fault you leave your things unattended."

"That doesn't explain how you knew how to use it?"

"Please Granger, like Potter can keep anything a secret. I'd overheard him speaking to that stupid piece of parchment multiple times." He scoffed, the mention of Harry was unwelcome.

"What were you looking for?" Hermione continued to press, if he was up to something she wanted to know about it.

"None of your business." He countered back.

"Well I think it is considering you were rooting around in my bedroom to find it." She snapped back, the back and forth bickering grating on her nerves.

"Transfiguration textbook." He threw out, and Hermione knew he had just invented that to pacify her.

"Bullshit!" The swear surprised even her as it fell from her mouth and Draco tutted.

"Watch your mouth Granger." His tone was sharp. Hermione did not reply for several moments, feeling thoroughly told off.

"Why do you keep telling me what to do?" She finally offered bitterly.

Draco sipped from his mug, weighing his next words carefully. "It dismays me to see a witch behave in such a manner." Hermione's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"_Dismays?_ _Dismays_?! It's none of your business how I behave!" She exhaled a large furious breath before continuing. "I am not yours to order around Draco Malfoy! I can behave in whatever manner I see fit."

Draco scoffed, tapping his fingernails against the ceramic mug. "Sure, Granger." He said drolly.

Hermione had not finished, she stood and drew herself up to her full height, although admittedly diminutive, and began yelling. "You have no right to tell me I am not allowed to see Seamus! Who do you think you are? One minute we're shouting and screaming at each other, the next you're bloody telling me to '_get to bed Granger._'" She did a crude impression of Malfoy's drawl. "I am not going to accept it anymore! Sort it out! You can't just threaten me and get away with it. I refuse to be manipulated!" Hermione finished her tirade with a triumphant flourish, feeling as if she'd laid the proverbial smackdown on Malfoy's entire argument.

She was wrong.

Malfoy rested his elbows on his knees, frowning at her. He placed his coffee cup on the table with a loud clatter, and then strode towards her. He bent his knees a little so he could look her fully in the face. "Manipulating you. You think I'm manipulating you?" His voice was incredulous and dangerously soft and Hermione refused to meet his eyes. She looked at the floor. "By all means, fly off into the sunset with Finnegan if you want to. He's a _real catch_, getting you drunk on purpose and then molesting you out in the corridor. For Salazar's sake, for such a smart witch you really are quite _stupid_. I'm sure that's exactly the kind of guy you want Granger." Her eyes were wide and fearful and she wished she had her wand. She made the rather erroneous decision to stare him down and immediately regretted it. His eyes were mercurial

"No, I don't think that's what you want in the slightest." His voice was low and crooning as he moved to whisper in her ear. They were inches apart and Hermione felt hot all over. She longed to push him away but her hands were pinned to her sides, she was frozen.

"Why can't you just leave things be?" She asked shakily.

He tutted again, he had a tendency to do that. "I will give you this, witch. You are unbearably frustrating." He lifted one hand to trace along the edge of her waist, down to her hip and the edge of her skirt.

"Malfoy." She breathed, shivering slightly. "You hate me. I hate you. You think I'm a mudblood." At this point she was not sure who she was trying to convince.

He ran his hand beneath her robes, pressing firmly along the length of her spine above her shirt. She closed her eyes. "Unbearably frustrating." He intoned again.

"I suggest you have a little think about who has your best interests in mind. I assure you, it's not Finnegan." His voice was velvety smooth, breath hot against her ear. There it was again, that illusion of suggestion that suggested she really had no choice at all. One second, and then two. The hand removed itself from her robes. She dared to open her eyes and noticed Malfoy had stepped several feet away from her. He had a funny expression on his face, and it didn't really sit right with what had just transpired. "Just a thought Granger." He shrugged before collecting his things.

Hermione did not move until the door slammed shut, and the sound rang through her like a nasty shock. Once again, she was left feeling very much at the mercy of Draco Malfoy.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave any constructive criticism you have in the review section, I hope you enjoyed :**)


	8. A Study Session

The next day, Hermione received an owl. It was from Professor McGonagall, and included the dates that she had asked for. She sighed when she noticed that the first Hogsmeade trip of the year would be on Halloween night, two days from now. It barely gave her any time to prepare the volunteered supervisors. She had spent all of last night decorating the castle with streamers and enchanted pumpkins. The House Elves had offered to help, but she'd naturally refused. Hermione was not the type of girl to employ slave labour just because she was a little tired. Besides, she was loathe to face her unwelcome house guest.

Tacked onto the parchment was a small note.

**Please meet your study partner in the Transfiguration classroom at 7pm tonight, and every Wednesday night at the same time following. **

**Regards, Professor McGonagall**

Hermione felt a little better, smiling inwardly to herself. She'd been looking forward to this, and had a stack of notes diligently prepared in her desk. Feeling like this was the best way to get certain events off her mind, she resolved to fetch them from her rooms to before dinner.

She arrived to her first lesson ten minutes early, and the classroom was deserted.

"You've outdone yourself Hermione, the decorations look great." It was Neville, sliding sheepishly on the bench next to her.

"Thanks Neville, what are you doing here?" Hermione really felt like she didn't need to remind him that he didn't take Potions, and hadn't for several years now.

"Ah, about that." He looked uncomfortable, and Hermione instinctively scanned behind her. "Seamus told Ginny who told Luna who asked me to ask you why you were ignoring him."

Hermione grimaced, not knowing how she could say '_because Draco Malfoy is blackmailing me_' in a rather subtle, casual way. "Uhh, well-"

"Not that I mind of course,' Neville interrupted, "you know, me and- well me and Luna." He smiled awkwardly again and Hermione returned it.

"It's okay Neville, well, I guess I just miss Ron." She paused, feeling a pang of guilt as she put extra emphasis on Ron's name. "-and Harry, that's all."

Neville seemed to catch her drift and his eyes widened in understanding. "Okay, well I'll be sure to let him know." He thought for a moment and said. "You know Mione, Ginny got a letter from Ron last week, said they're having loads of fun in training. I'd try not to worry about him." He did not seem to recognise his faux-pas and Hermione felt an unfamiliar leaden weight press against her heart.

"He's writing?" Her breath caught a little bit in her throat.

Neville nodded confusedly. "Why, haven't you gotten a letter?" Hermione shook her head sadly. "Well, I'm sure he'll write soon. You know what Errol's like, bet he's been lost in all this bad weather." He squeezed her hand reassuringly and got up from the table. "I've got to run, got Muggle Studies you see. Talk to you later!"

He scuttled out of the classroom just as its next occupant walked in.

"Trouble in paradise Granger?"

Hermione put her head in her hands. "Shut _up_ Malfoy."

He let out a full-bodied, musical laugh. "Give Weaselbee my love."

_Not bloody likely. _She thought to herself as some more stragglers entered the classroom. Still, Ron's face stayed in her mind for the rest of the lesson, kind, freckled and completely silent.

Rather like real life.

* * *

Draco arrived in at the Transfiguration classroom approximately three minutes late. Surprisingly, it was empty, and he huffed in annoyance. Whoever McGonagall had forced into this had clearly not cared enough to be on time. He slumped into the nearest desk, pulling out a quill and a bottle of ink. He tapped impatiently against the table. Draco did not like to be kept waiting.

Granger barreled into the classroom at top speed at 7:09pm. She had armfuls of parchment in hand, and her wild hair was falling in tendrils of its bun. "Sorry I was late, -Prefect meeting, -won't happen again" She wheezed out an apology in bits and pieces before stopping in her tracks. "_You?_" Her tone was a mix between disbelief and disgust, and Draco was mind to relay her sentiments back to her. However, Professor McGonagall's voice echoed through his mind. _'You must pass these classes Malfoy, else your probation be terminated and the Ministry will have no choice but to throw you in Azkaban.' _He did not think Granger would appreciate the tone that she was currently throwing at him, and he desperately needed to pass his classes.

"Evening Granger." He kept his tone even and raised his eyebrows.

"Don't '_evening Granger_' me!" She whispered loudly. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" He countered sarcastically. "I'm improving my Potions."

She slammed her papers onto the table and Draco flinched. "You don't need help with Potions! You're the second best in the class!" Her eyes were wild and cocoa brown, and Draco watched as a pretty flush warmed the tops of her ears and the tip of her nose.

"You clearly haven't been paying very much attention recently, I haven't gotten an Exceeds Expectations since term began." His enunciation had a little more bite to it now. He didn't appreciate having to point out his flaws. They were few and far between, after all.

"Well-" She looked as if she was going to say something and then changed her mind. She sat down next to him.

"Finished?" He quirked his brow.

"I'm not a child." Even she must know that her voice sounded petulant.

"Then why are you behaving like one?" He asked.

She grumbled and then picked up his quill. "I suppose we better get started then."

Draco felt a pleased smirk spread across his face. Three weeks ago Hermione Granger probably would have thrown her book in his face and stormed out the classroom, cursing him all the way. Her compliance was unexpected, but welcomed. He wasn't sure that he could take an entire hour of her screeching in his ear.

He watched her as she began talking animatedly about the Draught of Peace. She talked with her hands, and given that it still held his quill, he could see why she was always covered in splatters of ink. She was very enthusiastic. Her face was heart-shaped, and framed with the thin reading glasses she had begun to wear recently. Her skin was pale but not like his. Hers had a honey-butterscotch glow about it, whereas his would probably radiate with 'essence of prat' he thought drolly to himself.

Her fingers snapped in front of his face. "Hello, Draco? Are you paying attention?" He regained control of his Hufflepuff-like thoughts and replied with what he thought was a winning smile.

"Sorry, dozed off a bit there. What were you saying?"

Hermione scowled. "You need to take this seriously Malfoy! Don't you want to pass Potions?"

He flicked his quill at her. "Of course. Perhaps if you let up from your neverending tirade about calming potions, I'd have chance to get a word in edgeways."

Projecting her gaze downwards, she began playing with a loose strand of hair. "Don't do that." She admonished, ink sprinkled like freckles across her chin.

"Do what?" He did it again, this time landing on her forehead.

Hermione had an exasperated smile on her face as she bent down to look at her work, rubbing her forehead absentmindedly and smudging the ink. "You're such an arse." She said quietly.

Draco did not say anything, preferring instead to read the textbook pages in front of him. He had won this round.

* * *

They walked back to their dormitories together, and Hermione carried the fruits of their labour in her arms. She did her best to ignore the tall hovering Slytherin that followed her to the portrait, but then, he did live there too. They did not dally in idle conversation, but preferred to walk in silence. Hermione was not sure whether she liked the sudden switch of personality that Draco often employed. One minute he was aggressive and angry, the next he was witty and playful. She found herself reluctant to admit that she rather enjoyed their back and forth banter, his sharp tongue was both a gift and a curse.

Hermione reached the bowl of grapes first and waited for him to catch up. He looked at her in an odd way and said "you weren't at the Great Hall for supper."

"No, I suppose I wasn't." She replied. Neville's words still lay heavily on her from this morning, and she dreaded sitting at Gryffindor table, especially now Seamus had presumedly told their entire group what had occurred that night.

"You haven't eaten." It was not a question.

"No, I suppose I haven't." She repeated again. She hoped that her voice remained nonchalant, and didn't reflect the slight fear she felt.

"Go, eat." His voice was rich and smooth. There he was going and telling her what to do again.

She blustered, attempting to quickly escape into the common room, but he blocked her with an arm.

"Go, the House Elves will give you anything you ask for." Hermione was reminded of the night he told her to stay away from Seamus, only this time she wasn't drunk. His eyes scanned her face for any sign of protestation, and he gestured with his free hand to the empty corridor

She glared at him one last time before flouncing in the opposite direction. If she had bothered to look back, she would have seen the satisfied expression on Malfoy's face. "Bring me back a nice gateaux Granger." He called after her, and she stuck her middle finger up behind her back.

"Not a chance!" She called back as she heard the portrait swing shut behind him. Not a chance indeed.

**A/N: Ah another chapter finished! What do you think? I like exploring Draco's point of view and his motivations, he's a funny old guy.**


	9. A Trip to the Kitchens

Hermione approached the painted pear with little hesitation. What Malfoy did not know is that she had little qualms about visiting the House Elves of Hogwarts anymore. In fact, after their sacrifice at the Battle of Hogwarts, she had sat in on several of their testimonies at the Wizengamot. It shocked her to hear how much they valued the school and the students that lived in it, for she had previously believed them to be brainwashed into service by wizards. That being said, of course she would never stop campaigning against the abuse that many of the creatures faced, but after a long talk with Kreacher and a sprightly house elf named Bingley at the end of the trials, she decided that the conditions at Hogwarts were more than satisfactory.

The kitchens themselves were light and airy, kept impeccably clean by the small army that inhabited it. In the daytime, it would be filled with a bustling crowd of elves, Hermione remembered the one time she'd come to visit at lunchtime. She was pretty sure that Wilkie, the leader of the house elves, would have thrown a rather heavy saucepan at her if she'd stayed for much longer. Most of the time she just skipped lunch now, for convenience's sake. But after the feast there was little to do, and only several elves would remain. Hermione liked it best like this, house elves seemed to like the quiet just as much as she did.

"Good evening little Miss! Are you wanting your usual?" It was Bingley. Hermione gave him a wide genuine smile.

"If that's not too much trouble Bingley." Bingley nodded.

"It is not being too much trouble for Bingley Miss, we is hardly busy at all after 7pm."

She remembered Draco's words from earlier. "I don't suppose you have any leftover cakes do you? Not very much, maybe a slice or two."

She'd hardly gotten chance to finish her sentence before Bingley pushed a large woven basket into her hands.

"It's enchanted to stay warm Miss! Your food will be fresh and hot for when you take it to the Library. We is having chocolate cakes, Victoria sponges, and some lemon tart. What would Miss like?"

Hermione paused for a moment. She really didn't know what kind of cake Draco best enjoyed. "Chocolate? Thank you Bingley."

When Bingley returned with the cake, packaged prettily on the plate in paper and red string she remembered her errand. "Say, if it's not too much trouble, do you think that you could make a picnic for me for Halloween night? I'm supervising students all day in Hogsmeade, I'm not sure I'll be back in time for the feast."

"Missy is never back in time for the feast, she is always sleeping or studying or pretending not to be hungry." Bingley gave an omniscient wink. Hermione felt herself become flustered.

"Well, thank you anyway, I really do appreciate it!" If house elves could blush, she was certain that he would have blushed now.

"You is too kind to Bingley Miss." She waved goodbye to the elf and exited out of the portrait. He was one of the kindest creatures she'd ever met, and it turned her stomach to think of the tortures that he had been subjected under Carrow rule last year. House elves were originally target practice during lessons, and later fodder to their bad moods. They really were two despicable human beings. She still remembered Bingley's tear-stricken face, as he sat in the chair that was entirely too big for him and recounted his story. She found herself so deep in memory about the little elf and his testimony that she did not notice to whom she bumped into on the fourth floor staircase.

"Seamus!" She felt her heart rate drop and increase in surmounting horror.

"Oh, hi 'Mione." His voice was a little dejected, and she saw him glance at the basket she held close to her feet.

She tried to sidestep him quickly, feeling very awkward. She barely got two steps further up before she heard him say "Neville told me, about Ron. 'An I just gotta say, I never would'a kissed you if I'd known you still liked Ron. It's just-" he paused, and Hermione could practically hear him scratching his head. "Look, I don't want to be the one to tell you this."

She closed her eyes briefly, counted to ten, and then turned around. "What is it Seamus?"

"Well, it's sorta got around that Ron's, you know..." His face was a bit red. Hermione could practically feel the heat radiating from her cheeks.

"A bit what?" She ground out.

"Well, you saw how he was with Lav." He rubbed his shaven head again nervously.

"So you didn't feel the need to tell me this at all? Not even when we were all talking about writing to Harry and him?" Hermione was vaguely aware of her voice raising in pitch.

"Well I just thought - you know - Ron did give me his blessing."

Hermione could practically feel the magic crackling around her head like a bright, hot halo. "I am not an object Seamus! Did you ever feel like it would be necessary to ask me what I wanted?"

He could only stutter but Hermione had heard enough. If it was possible to stomp a hole through foot-deep thousand-year-old stone, she would have accomplished it in that moment.

The common room wasn't far, and it wasn't long before she had burst through the portrait.

"Malfoy!" She shrieked. He was sitting on the sofa nearest the fire, lounging, to her surprise, in his pyjamas. It was very unusual to see him in such a vulnerable state of dress. Not that she took any notice, of course.

"No need to shout Granger, I'm not deaf yet." He stretched lazily, and his flippant expression only served to make Hermione angrier. She trembled, magic fizzled at her fingertips.

"You knew." Her voice was low and barely controlled. He moved to face her, and she continued. "You _knew_, and you didn't tell me. You let me humiliate myself in front of the both of them."

"Wait, you were with Finnegan? I thought I told you to get some food." He crossed his arms, as if to wait for an explanation, and she thrust out the basket, as if to give him one.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked again.

He shrugged. "What was I meant to do?"

"You could have told me! Warned me!"

"I did warn you Granger, I did more than sufficient on that part, or has my reminder to stay away from him completely slipped your overgrown brain?" Running his hands through his hair, he hit the sofa in frustration.

"You _blackmailed_ me!" She said furiously.

"Don't exaggerate, it's not flattering." He scoffed. "If I hadn't, you would've been dating that prat Finnegan now and you know it."

"I would not!" Hermione felt herself rebutt before she had little chance to say anything else.

"Bullshit Granger, you'd be dating him or that pathetic scum Weasley."

"Don't call him that!" She defended him automatically, out of habit and immediately regretted it. Draco's eyes turned murderous.

"Call him what? Scum? Pathetic? That's what he is Granger, he's scum. Him and Finnegan. He's not worthy enough to spit on my shoes. Do you know why he's not been writing you back? He's been too busy shagging other witches. He feels too guilty to even write to his precious Mione, he thinks he's left you behind. Is that the truth you so badly wanted to hear?" There were tears running down Hermione's face now. "Don't pretend like you haven't known deep down. He's been waiting at the chance to trade you like a Chocolate Frog card for months."

Her voice trembled, all fire taken out of it. "I don't understand, how did you know? Why didn't you tell me when you overheard Neville in Potions?" She was speaking almost to herself, wringing her hands in despair. She felt betrayed by her life long friend, angry that she'd been treated like a possession, angry that she'd not been kept in the loop.

"How long have you known?" She demanded.

"A few days before it happened. I overheard Finnegan reading his letter from Weasley to Terry Boot in the Owlery. I didn't know the who it was from until a few days ago. I thought even Weasley would be above such things."

Hermione barely noticed, but he'd pulled his hands out of his pockets and gently pried her hands apart. He was warm, hands surprisingly soft. He held them firmly, and pulled her until their foreheads were touching. Silent sobs wracked her body as she allowed herself to be comforted by this very strange action. Her anger dissolved. "I don't understand Draco, I don't understand." She repeated it hoarsely like a mantra and he made soft, soothing noises with the back of his throat.

"I know, I know, Hermione. It will be okay. I did not want you to find out this way." He whispered. At some point he had pulled her onto the sofa, and her head rested on his lap. He gently carded his fingers through her wiry hair as Hermione sobbed. She inhaled his scent of clean-boy and woodsmoke and cried some more.

"I'm so s-scared Draco. I don't understand anything that goes on, I feel so weak and helpless."

He frowned, and she felt him take a deep breath. "I'm not manipulating you Hermione, I meant that when I said it earlier. I told you that Finnegan was no good for you and I was right. I've known Weasley was simply nothing my entire life. When you start trusting my judgement, you will learn I am not often wrong."

She bit her lip, and got up from his lap. "You only hated Ron before because you thought he was a blood traitor." Her tone was accusatory. He looked as if he was to begin pacifying a small child, and Hermione could have laughed with the irony of it all.

"Hermion-"

"I don't want to talk about this with you anymore Draco." She interrupted firmly. "What, did you think I was just going to sit here and listen to you belittle the people that I love? How many times have you called me a Mudblood? How many times have you said you hate me?"

He caught her hands again and twisted them, pulling her in between his legs. "I am losing my patience with you witch, you will not interrupt me again." He loosened his grip. "I do not hate the Weasleys because they are blood traitors. I hate them because they are self-aggrandizing, simpering, self-serving excuses for witch and wizard." Hermione felt her heart slump. The vehemence of his hatred dismayed her and she felt scared. It was easy to forget about blood prejudice when it had been just him and her. She had so easily got comfortable with him these past few hours. She remembered his burn just a few weeks ago and flinched involuntarily. What had he said? She had been letting her guard down with a _known enemy. _Still, he didn't much feel like an enemy.

"Why do you keep hurting me?" She mumbled.

"I didn't mean to, the first time." He said honestly. "It is very frustrating when I want you to see things my way, you're too stubborn and hotheaded to think about things properly." Hermione bit back the urge to respond. "You're not exactly a bunch of daisies sometimes." She felt a twinge at her heart as she realised he was right: she had caught herself doing things she'd never thought she'd do to get back at Malfoy.

"I don't like it." She said. Draco did not respond.

"Maybe we bring out the worst in eachother." Her voice was tentative, and she dared to look into his eyes. He tilted his head to look back at her. After a long while, he spoke in barely a whisper. If she'd been another foot back perhaps she would not have heard it.

"Maybe."

Before she had time to think bout it, she leant forward and captured his lips with her own. Her hands were still clasped with his. This was nothing like the kiss from Seamus, or the fumbled peck she'd shared with Ron. It could barely even considered a kiss perhaps. It was soft and tender and gentle and Hermione felt herself melt into his embrace. She counted maybe three, perhaps four seconds before she came to her senses, pulling apart hastily with her eyes wide open. Malfoy's face was a little pink and his pupils were blown wide. She lifted a shaking hand to her lips.

"I'm-I'm sorry." She whispered, horrified. She had kissed Draco Malfoy. _Draco Malfoy_, Death Eater, Hermione-threatener, professional prat extraordinaire. He said nothing, looking almost as surprised as she, and she turned on her heel and ran. She locked her door, warded it twice and then slid, shaking, down the oak door. No tears came, but her eyes were sore as she stared into space. _Luftmensch._

* * *

**A/N: Ok so just to clarify: Draco didn't know about Ron sending the letter until very recently, he thought it was just Seamus discussing Hermione in a disrespectful manner, that's why he made so many references to Ron fancying Hermione in earlier chapters to wind her up. A bit more characterisation in this chapter, I know a lot of you have been waiting for answers as to why their relationship is so volatile, but I put it towards unexplained chemistry and unresolved tension. IRL they're probably dealing with undiagnosed PTSD, which can lead to excessive irritability and anger. Please review if you enjoyed!**


	10. A Hogsmeade Visit

**A/N: Hi there, sorry I've hardly updated this week, I've been really sick and i really didn't feel like half-arsing a chapter for the sake of it. I've had some requests to write more from Draco's POV so this first part of the chapter will be from his perspective. As always, please review if you have any comments such as criticism or requests! This is my longest chapter yet!**

* * *

Draco sat reclined at his desk, moodily flipping through the Marauder's Map. Hermione hadn't missed it, since he'd nicked it almost three weeks ago. Of course, he'd left a duplicate parchment in her rooms but that would not replicate the magic that the map possessed, and if she'd attempted to use it, she'd quickly realise it was a fake. Still, it seemed she had no use for it once the twin idiots had left her to deal with their own hijinks. Indeed it seemed she didn't do very much at all. According to the map, the only places Hermione frequented were: their dorms, the Library and the Kitchens. Of course, this didn't include their lessons, but the Hermione Granger Draco thought he knew rarely appeared in those, instead a drab spectre that had appropriated the form of everyone's favourite Gryffindor Bookworm sat in her seat and took her notes.

It had been a full day since their messy confrontation in the common room, and from consulting the map, Hermione only deigned to leave her rooms once Draco had left for lessons. He'd left the basket of food outside her door before he'd gone to bed last night. It was left untouched by him, save for a slice of chocolate cake that he'd stared at for several long minutes. He vaguely wondered if she was in possession of a time turner, because there was no way she could shower, eat breakfast and get ready all before 9:00am. No, Hermione had not been late since that day she'd overslept in the Library. Draco felt a nerve twitch in his jaw.

This obsession over Hermione Granger was bound to not be healthy. He told himself that she had a right to her own privacy, after all that had happened, she was bound to never forgive him if she knew he was spying on her. Still, he told himself that it was for her own good. After all, he'd seen how she'd crumpled under the news of her best friend's falseness. He wasn't sure whether she'd actually fancied Finnegan, but still, it was disturbing to see how easy it was to upset her. He frowned. Must be that Gryffindor countenance, no Slytherin would ever allow themself such an open display of emotion.

He found himself increasingly frustrated at his situation. He had been livid at the thought of sharing a living space with the Gryffindor, but found himself quickly relaxing into the routine without even realising. It had barely been two months, yet he quite enjoyed the quiet companionship they'd shared. It was nice to not have to fill empty silences with insipid conversation. She was still insufferable at times, and incredibly hotheaded, but Draco found he rather enjoyed winding her up about certain things. It was difficult to know which buttons to push, but that only came with a trial-and-error approach. Draco was nothing if not adaptable.

He thought of the kiss that they had shared and his frown deepened. He had not planned for that to happen, and he had an unfortunate feeling that it would have a knock-on effect towards their tutoring sessions. They hadn't another one until next week, perhaps she would've gotten over it by then. He kicked the bookcase out of mild frustration, cursing himself as he stubbed his toe painfully. He really needed to pass these subjects, and it would not do to get distracted. Indeed, Hermione Granger was a big distraction, and his lips tingled slightly as he thought again of her soft lips and flushed freckled skin. _Damn her. _No, it would simply not do to complicate things. He resolved to pretend like the embarrassing affair had not happened entirely, he was sure that was the best way to get Hermione to speak to him again. She was just so infuriating, it was hard to think of much else.

He heard her door click open, and a soft knock sounded at his door. He jumped up in surprise, righting himself quickly, smoothing his robes down with both hands, before shoving the map into one of his drawers.

"Come in." He hoped he did not sound like he had just been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

She entered the room after a moment. Her face was worn and timid-looking, her jumper hung lopsided from one shoulder, and she wasn't wearing any shoes. Draco was struck by an indescribable urge to comfort her, that he quickly compartmentalised. _Remember the plan. _He thought to himself as his grades swum to the forefront of his mind.

"Granger." He said by way of greeting.

She sat on his bed, pulling an envelope out of her back pocket. "I got a letter." She said quietly, as if her tongue took up too much room in her mouth. If she had been waiting for Draco to say anything, he did not say it.

"It's from Harry." She continued. "He wanted to know how things were going back at Hogwarts."

Draco gave her a 'so what' look. She appeared slightly abashed but continued faithfully on. "I didn't know what to tell him."

"What does it have to do with me?" He asked, feeling a little nauseous at the thought of Potter knowing about his illicit snogging activities with Hermione Granger.

She flushed. "W-Well, I just-. Well- nothing." Draco noticed her shaking hands on the parchment and again fought the urge to steady them. "Absolutely nothing!" She stood up and walked hot-footedly out of the room, slamming the door behind her with a loud bang. "I'm going to Hogsmeade." Draco thought he heard her shout angrily through the thick wood of his door.

Draco resisted the compulsion to bang his head on said door. That had not gone exactly as well as he'd intended it to. As per the terms of his probation he was not allowed to visit Hogsmeade with the rest of the students, but needed to be supervised by a teacher or prefect, and it was another unwelcome reminder that he did not fit into the society that had been established post-war.

Draco weighed up the potential humiliation in his mind, and decided that he would simply have to go. Perhaps it would not be too late to get a good chaperone, and he would be placed with a nice easy 5th Year prefect he could easily give the slip to. One could only hope.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione was escorting a group of excitable Third Years through the gates of Hogwarts and into Hogsmeade. The village itself was sleepy, carpeted by a thick layer of leftover rainwater and muddy sludge. The sky was sooty and covered in clouds, and the soft pale flicker of magical candlelight could be seen reflected from the tiny windows of each cottage. It was barely 10am, and it felt like the village had already gone for an early bedtime.

Despite this, the usual hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade remained, and many-a eager student milled the streets, splashing their fellow shoppers with their wellies. Hermione dismissed the students to their own devices; she had only needed to accompany them to the village, as it was a fair twenty-five minute walk. She was happy to let them go, her legs were aching from the exertion of walking uphill and then downhill again, and she longed for a teacup full to the brim of steaming tea, and then perhaps a hot butterbeer or two.

The Three Broomsticks would be much too busy at this time of the morning, so she settled to visit Madame Puddifoots. It was rarely frequented by students, unless by couples on dates, and Hermione rarely was bothered by them. It was decorated most festively for Halloween, which was tonight. Big black and orange streamers fell from ceiling to floor, and the sugar pots were enchanted to look like lit pumpkins. It was quite endearing, and Hermione managed a fond smile.

She ordered a pot of Earl Grey and settled back into the squishy chintz armchair with a sigh. From where she was sitting she could see out of the window, and she took delight in watching the people mill past. Soon she drifted into her own world, and began mulling over the past few days. It was hard to believe all that happened, and she struggled to figure out where it had all started.

Sure, she'd hardly spoken to Harry or Ron in the months since the war ended, but they had all been busy. She'd thought that Ron would've at least told her if he'd gotten a girlfriend, especially if it wasn't her. She hadn't been smitten for a long time, but it still hurt deeply that the kind warm boy she had known for so many years did not want to share his comings and goings with her. She had figured they'd end up together eventually, but according to Draco he clearly had other ideas. Her head still felt numb at the admission. Ron was always a little pigheaded, and writing secret letters to one of their closest friends in an attempt to set them up was possibly one of his clumsiest moves yet.

At the thought of Draco Hermione's insides curdled with embarrassment. She couldn't believe that she'd kissed _Malfoy_, of all people. She quickly glossed over the fact that his mouth was soft and that his hands were warm and gentle and focused on the glaring fact that she'd kissed _Malfoy_. _and she'd enjoyed it. _This was entirely too horrible to admit to herself. She was loathe to admit that his attitude this morning had stung, and she determined that whatever he'd thrown at her she would throw back with equal vigor.

She was just about to pay for her drink when an unexpected duo deposited themselves in her alcove.

"Hermione! Excellent to see you. I was just saying to old Malfoy here what pressing Prefect business we have to sort out." It was Zacharias Smith, and he was speaking in a rather unusually hearty voice, like he'd gotten something very unpleasant in the post, and was pretending that he liked it very much.

To her horror, Draco Malfoy was sitting next to him on the sofa, looking a tad peeved off. "Hullo again Granger." He said casually.

Hermione managed a tight smile before saying "Well, it was very nice to see you both but I must be off. I'm sure we can discuss duties at another time Zacharias, perhaps next week?"

Zacharias barely managed a pompous splutter before she swept off towards the counter, purse full of galleons in hand.

Draco had followed, and he slid his hands smoothly along the countertop. "Hi Granger." He said again.

She made a faint noise of disapproval. "I thought you weren't allowed in Hogsmeade." She said primly.

"Wasn't, not without a chaperone." He paused and then scowled. "Of course, if I'd known it was going to be Smith I would've politely declined, he's a right nuisance you know. I swear the old bat foisted him on me for the sake of retribution."

Hermione rolled her eyes, before taking a peek behind them. Zacharias was warming his hands by the fire. "Yes he is rather insufferable isn't he."

Madame Puddifoot herself finally made an appearance, and she paid for her drink quickly. "Well, like I said, must be off." She said rather awkwardly.

"Wait-" Draco burst out quickly. "You have to help me get away from Smith, just for ten minutes." He did look very desperate. "He's been talking my ear off about the technicalities of Gamp's Laws and the importance of Ministry Connections for the past thirty minutes."

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes again. "You shouldn't break the rules, if your probation is broken-" She broke off and gave him a meaningful look.

Malfoy tutted and whispered back conspiratorially "Come on Granger, I'd still have a Prefect chaperoning me, just not Smith." He was incorrigible.

"You're such a prat." She whispered back. He didn't say anything, turning his head expectantly at the door.

"Fine." She gave in. "But I'm going to Scrivenshaft's."

He smirked and followed her out of the café. "Whatever you say Granger."

Scrivenshaft's was as light and mellow as always, and Hermione gladly lost herself in the stacks of parchment and quills, doing her best to ignore her new shadow.

"So, Granger." She heard a wry voice behind her.

"What?" She snapped irritably back.

"Don't be snappy, have you decided what to put in that letter yet?" His voice was probing.

"No." She answered honestly. "I was thinking of maybe just not replying at all to be honest."

"Well if I were you," he started smoothly. "I would just put the bare minimum, no specifics, no lies either. Emit all the messy parts but give him a juicy tidbit or two to keep him from getting suspicious. Otherwise be as vague as possible." His voice had a rather hypnotising quality to it and Hermione struggled to concentrate on the blood-red quill she had currently been examining.

"Right? Well, thanks Malfoy." She struggled to keep her voice even and unshaken. He leant around her and plucked the quill from her fingers.

"Well, how are you doing?" He continued.

Hermione blustered. "What?"

"How are you holding up? I haven't seen you since Wednesday." His voice was confident, as if he had just asked Hermione the weather, rather than the uncharacteristic concern he was showing her now.

"I'm fine." She said firmly. "Perfectly okay." The lie sounded perfectly imperceptible to her own ear. She was already humiliated enough from her moments of vulnerability with Malfoy.

"No more crying?" His voice was low and cheeky in her ear. Hermione resisted the urge to turn around and hit him.

"None." she replied. He hummed disbelievingly and the vibrations washed over Hermione like a hot bath.

"Well, that being said, I suggest you keep any and all _encounters_ to yourself." His voice practically dripped with dangerous unspoken nuance and Hermione felt him press against her back. She shivered. Hermione knew he was referring to the kiss that they had shared, and whilst she had never intended on sharing that titbit with Harry, it was disturbing to see it vocalised in such a way. It felt very much like a threat.

He seemed to be waiting for a response so Hermione began to stutter a reply. A booming voice was heard amongst the stacks. "Anyone seen Draco Malfoy, could've sworn I'd just been with him a minute ago."

Hermione turned around, now almost chest to chest with the much taller boy. "Time's up." She whispered.

He handed her back the quill, not breaking the tentative eye contact they shared. "I'll be seeing you Granger." He murmured. Less than a second later, he had strode off, and Hermione heard him admonishing Smith all the way through the doorway. She shivered again and then wrapped her cloak tightly around her. His final statement had felt a lot like a rather risky promise. She clutched the scarlet quill in her fingers. She had an inkling that, yet again, Malfoy had won this round.


	11. A Mission

Hermione walked back from Hogsmeade with a great purpose. She felt more awake than she had done in days, like her brain had finally whirred back to life. In fact, she had not felt this good since her resolution to simply hex Malfoy into oblivion every time she saw him. As she knew now, that was ill-fated and not as simple as she had thought. This would not be easy either. She could hardly believe she had not connected the dots before. Malfoy was _up to something_.

He had been in her rooms multiple times; she had changed the wards after he had broken in the first time (which took several sore-head-inducing hours to fix) to ones he clearly did not recognise, because although he could dismantle them fairly quickly, he had failed to notice a simple defensive charm that alerted Hermione whenever somebody entered her rooms. To top this off, he had claimed to 'be looking for something', and she knew it wasn't the Marauder's Map, because she now kept that magically locked in a drawer underneath her four-poster. He knew what she was up to at inopportune, vulnerable moments, and he seemed to know most things about the people around her too.

It also gave her an logical conclusion as to his hot-and-cold behaviour towards her. He had hated her naturally for years, and it would make sense that he would try to appeal to her nice side in order to continue with whatever he was doing. Switching between personalities to suit their goal was a Malfoy trait, Hermione rationalised. No, he was definitely up to something, and it would be up to Hermione to find out what he wanted. She walked quickly towards her intended target, plan formulating rapidly in her brain. She reached the large heavy-set doors before long, and gave them a big push.

The Great Hall was a dark glittering hubbub of activity. The walls were bewitched an inky black, and the enchanted ceiling reflected the Milky Way usually seen from outside the castle. It was an exceptionally clear night, considering this morning's drab weather. The lit candles that floated above each table dripped wax onto the piles and piles of assorted treats, confectionery and baked goods. From her vantage point, Hermione could see large groups of tiny first year students congregating around Nearly Headless Nick. He must be inviting them to his annual death-day party, she presumed.

It had been a while since she'd had the courage to venture into the Great Hall and she did so cautiously, taking care to ignore the groups of people that lifted their head up to gawp at her as she walked past them. She was the most recognisable of herself, Harry and Ron and a lot of the younger students had little tact. She resisted the urge to look over on the far side of the hall towards the Slytherin table.

She continued determinedly past Seamus and Neville and, with her mission still in mind, instead took a seat with Ginny, Luna and several other girls whom she did not recognise at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hey." She said quietly. "Can I join you?"

Ginny looked at her with an expression of mild surprise painted on her pretty features. It was Luna who said "Of course" in her balanced, calm way that she always seemed to possess.

"I told you we'd be seeing Hermione sooner than you thought, didn't I Ginny?" Luna continued. "We can always trust our friends to come back to us." Her voice was as level as always, but her eyes crinkled in a happy sort of way.

Hermione took a glance at the girl sat next to her, and she shifted a little in her seat. "What Luna means-" The redhead started uncomfortably. Hermione raised her hand as if to cut her off

"No, it's okay. I know I've been a little absent recently. I understand." She sounded guilty but it was the truth. Sometimes telling the truth was the best way to get what you wanted from people, especially if those people were some of your closest friends who could tell if you were being a little suspicious.

"Well, we haven't been the most present friends either." Ginny looked at her with big sad honest hazel eyes and Hermione felt a twinge of remorse. She really hadn't meant to cut her friends off quite so much, it had just sort of, happened.

"Honestly Gin, it's okay. Do you think I could talk to you? It's about something important." She tried to make her face as expressive and important as possible: that there were prying ears and eyes even on the Ravenclaw table. If Ginny got the message she made it obvious, opening her mouth in understanding and raising her eyebrows.

With a fierce look from Hermione, she turned back to her bowl of pea soup and began talking to it instead. "Yeah, of course. Usual place?"

Hermione sounded her approval and turned to Luna. "Will you be coming, Lu?"

"No, I don't much like plotting." She said airily. "And I'd prefer it if you could call me Luna." Hermione flushed. Sometimes Luna's direct manner caught her by surprise.

"Right, well, no problem." She said a little awkwardly. She spooned a golden ladleful of curry onto her otherwise empty plate.

In her haste to make polite conversation with Luna, who was currently discussing the intricacies of the ritual she was completing in the Forbidden Forest tonight, she made the mistake of looking towards the one place she had been dreading.

Draco looked suitably rumpled, his hair was coiffed in a messy sort of way, and the soft heather-grey of his jumper contrasted nicely with his pale skin. He had no robes, no cloak but he managed to outdress the rest of his peers at his table. Speaking of his table, Hermione was surprised to see it fairly full. It seemed that students from other houses had taken it upon themselves to congregate on the least-populated table. His gaze flickered to hers and Hermione quickly looked away. She did not know why she felt compelled to watch him.

After that display from this morning, she had been left feeling less shaken than she had done from their previous encounters. Indeed, it was the only one she could remember that had not ended in some form of physical manhandling. A little voice in Hermione's head told her that last time it had been _her_ that had manhandled _Draco_, and she'd rather enjoyed it. Unable to stop herself, she looked up again.

His gaze was penetrating, and even from this far distance she could see his eyebrow quirk in challenge. She darted her eyes back to her curry, resisting a smile. The non-verbal cat and mouse was intriguing even to her.

"You okay 'Mione,? You're looking a bit twitchy." It was Ginny's voice that pulled her out of her reverie.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." She seemed to be saying that a lot recently. "I'll just meet you there then? No rush."

Both Ginny and Luna and several of the girls they had been sitting with but that Hermione did not know or remember the names of waved their goodbyes as Hermione left the Hall, again trying to feel like she was not being stared at by a small army of small children.

"Trick or treat?"

A very particular masculine voice sounded from behind her, and Hermione jumped, startled by the sudden noise.

"Merlin Malfoy, you almost gave me a heart attack!" She hissed, turning around but not stopping walking. "What do you think you're doing?!"

He held a small silver bucket full to the brim with various sweets. "Relax Granger." He intoned drolly, quickly catching up to her with long strides. "I'm just on the lookout for more sweets, it's entirely innocent."

Hermione huffed, recently revelation still in mind. "I doubt anything you do is entirely innocent Malfoy."

"You've got me there." He chuckled. "Unusual isn't it, seeing you downstairs for the feast?" He spoke in a light, unassuming voice that was decidedly false.

"I fancied a change of scenery." She replied uncomfortably.

"On the Ravenclaw table?" Hermione looked at her feet.

"I was having a chat."

Draco hummed disbelievingly. "Hermione Granger doesn't just chat."

Hermione scoffed, feeling decidedly like she had the upper hand. "Since when are you an expert on what I do or don't do?"

He did not answer for several moments and she stopped to wait for him to catch up.

"Well, let me know, next time you want a _chat_." He said acerbically, continuing to walk straight past her. "In a bit, Granger."

* * *

She met Ginny in an old disused classroom just beneath the top floor of the Astronomy Tower fifteen minutes later. The last time she'd been in there was because it had been raining during her lesson, and being a first-year, she had not yet learnt to cast _impervius_ yet. Thus, it was the perfect place for plotting, and Ginny and herself had met there several times to discuss how best to avoid Cormac McClaggen during Slug Club happenings in her previous year at Hogwarts.

By the time that she had finished telling Ginny all that had transpired between her and Malfoy, her mouth was practically on the floor, and her cherry-red hair was extremely tousled from running her fingers too many times through it. She did her best to edit out any particularly sordid details, but kept the basis of fact in there. Conveniently, she forgot to mention their kiss entirely. They had both decided to forget like it had ever happened, and Hermione saw no reason to include her brief moment of weakness she blamed entirely on reading too many romance novels.

"Oh, I'm going to kill Ronald for this." Was the first thing out of Ginny's furious mouth. "You mean to tell me, Malfoy's being nice to you? On purpose? Malfoy's sharing rooms with you? Why didn't you tell me?" were the next four. Her voice was incredulous, and Hermione would have felt the same way if this had been the first time she had been exposed to the story.

She nodded, grimacing. "Well, I wouldn't exactly put it like being nice." She reached under her chin and showed Ginny the burn mark on the underside of her jaw. "It's like he can flick a switch, it's unnerving." Ginny poked her fingers around the burn and muttered something under her breath that sounded like a _bloody Malfoy, that git_. They fell into silence.

"Merlin, I can't believe bloody Malfoy is trying to seduce you." Ginny said after a while, her head resting uncomfortably on an overturned desk.

"He's not trying to seduce me!" Hermione squawked. "I don't know what he's trying to do, but we need to figure out what he's looking for."

"Are you sure 'Mione? I know it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that he might be up to some sneaky ferrety business but come on, why would he risk it? The war's over, maybe he's just trying to make amends."

"No I don't think so. I don't think he's changed." Hermione sighed. "When he first started to live with me, it's like before: he couldn't stand me. He threatened me." Hermione thought about the calming concerned voice that had told her to get food from the kitchens. "But he looked out for me, he tried to protect me. In his own way, it was like he actually cared." The words got stuck in her throat a little, like she couldn't quite bear to say them yet. "It's like he needs me for something. When you put all of the facts together; how he knew everything before I did, it just makes sense."

Ginny made a noise of disapproval. "Well, when you put it like that it does sound rather incriminating. If he's threatening you, I want to help, but we have to be cautious. If he is up to something really dark, who knows what he'll do to get it."

Hermione nodded with a sigh. "Now, where to start..."

**A/N: Well, another chapter updated! Please review! Hermione certainly has some funny ideas in her head doesn't she? It's interesting to see how characters will rationalise certain behaviours in their brain. :)**


	12. An Opportunity

That night in the abandoned classroom, Hermione and Ginny came up with a plan of action. Over the next few weeks they would take turns observing Malfoy's behaviour. For Hermione, it would be fairly easy. She did of course live with the man. Ginny would take turns following him in the corridor between classes and during meals. Hermione would steal glances at him from time to time in their common room where they continued to study in harmonious silence. Sometimes she would catch him looking back at her, and she'd quickly divert her gaze.

Their tutoring lessons became uneventful, laboursome. At times their bickering was intolerable and Hermione would storm out of the classroom early, sometimes even at Draco's behest. When she was not spying on Draco, she spent hours staring at her room, poring over books and looking for something that he could possibly want. She stared at the bookshelves emptily and thought of nothing obvious.

Draco was a fairly unimaginative guy when it came to hobbies, it turned out. He woke up, went to breakfast, went to lessons, went to dinner and then came back to their shared common room. Occasionally, Hermione would see him in a deserted corner of the Library, he usually looked stressed. She did not take this as a particularly big clue. They were all stressed about their classes and the giant mountain of homework they were always given.

Hermione itched for some sign that he was Doing Something.

Sometimes, she would hear him sneaking out in the middle of the night, when he thought she had gone to bed. It was very subtle, but Hermione's instincts were razor sharp from the war. She longed for Harry's invisibility cloak and briefly considered owling him for it. But then, that would raise questions, and it would mean telling Harry that she was living with Malfoy. No, that was not an option.

The opportunity came on a Friday free period in late November. It had just begun to snow heavily outside, and the sun was beginning to set. Hermione sat alone in the common room, wrapped up in a hand knitted blanket with a mug of tea and a heavy tome resting on her knees. She heard a quiet click and then boot-clad footsteps.

"Going somewhere?" She asked drily. Malfoy was attempting to sneak out, right in front of her. He froze, and then relaxed quickly.

"Quidditch practice." He replied smoothly, leaning against said-broom.

"You aren't on the Quidditch team anymore." She raised an eyebrow, and he looked slightly abashed.

"I know that. Can't a man want to fly his broom from time to time?"

"I suppose so." Hermione said airily, feeling very much like she'd caught Draco out. "In the snow?"

Malfoy glanced at the nearby window. It was indeed beginning to snow quite heavily. "I like the cold." He said lamely before turning to continue walking out of the room.

Hermione's stomach lurched, this was her opportunity to see what Malfoy was doing. There was no way he'd actually be going to practice in this weather. Perhaps she could find out what he was really up to, or at least have the opportunity to question him.

"I'll come with you." She said quickly, pulling off the blanket that she'd swaddled around herself and almost spilling her tea.

"Really?" He turned around and to look at her incredulously

"Yeah, I won't be a minute. Just let me grab my cloak and my shoes." She hurried, pointedly avoiding his eyes.

"Okay, sure." Malfoy said in an unsure tone, sitting down on the doorstep with a sigh.

She hopped towards him, still putting one boot on. "Can you pass me my cloak?"

He unhooked it, mumbling briefly about how ridiculous she was, and passed it to her. Their hands brushed briefly and his were warm and soft. Hermione blushed. He smirked from where he sat on the hearth beneath her.

They exited the common room with little fanfare and continued in silence all the way down to the grounds. There were little people around, most were in lessons. Draco was the first one to speak.

"So Granger, any reason for this little excursion?"

Hermione jumped a little. "What?" She definitely did want him getting suspicious, and if he thought that she was up to something then it would be next to impossible to get any kind of lead. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea after all.

"No need to get twitchy, I don't think I've ever seen you on a broom before." Hermione could practically hear the smirk in his voice and if she'd looked over to him she would've seen one on his face too.

"I haven't, not since first year. I hate flying." She admitted. "Although, Ronald has tried to force me on one a few times." She sniffed.

Draco made a noise of derision. "Yeah I'm sure Weasley would've loved to get you on his CleanSweep 10." He said sarcastically.

Hermione bristled, and wrapped her cloak around her tighter. "That's vulgar."

She paused, and said doubtfully. "Ron would never do anything like that."

"Honestly Granger, sometimes I think I know Weasley better than you." He spoke in an offhand manner, looking up to the sky with a gloved hand as if to survey the terrain. The comment piqued Hermione's attention, and she turned to him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She demanded.

"Have you forgotten the incident from October? Salazar Granger I thought you were supposed to be clever." He shook his head at her again in mocking and strode off. Hermione had to do a mini-jog to catch up with him.

"Wait!" She puffed. "Wait up!"

"Have you forgiven him already?" He asked, tone decidedly bitter.

Hermione shook her head violently. "No, of course not. I haven't even spoken to him about it. Why do you care?" Malfoy did not answer.

She was beginning to feel the cold set into her now, like little icicles seeping into her bloodstream. The grounds were barely covered in a light icing-sugar dusting of snow but the air was relentlessly chill. She shivered and then fumbled around her person for her wand.

"Where is it? Oh no, I think I've lost it." She said under her breath.

"What's that Granger?"

"I've lost my wand." She wailed. She was becoming relentlessly scatterbrained this past year, in her haste to follow Malfoy she must have left it behind. Oh, how she longed for the warm fire and her hot tea now.

Malfoy tutted. "You are quite the forgetful witch." She whimpered, and then shivered again.

"Can't you cast wandlessly?" He appeared quite amused with the situation.

"I'm not bloody _Dumbledore_ Malfoy, I only learnt very basic spells wandlessly."

_Defensive spells. _It was implied and true, last year they were the spells that were most important, and using them without a wand could mean the difference between life or death. She could've sworn she saw Malfoy twitch guiltily.

"I'm c-c-cold." Her teeth were chattering. "You gave me my thinnest cloak!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Come here, I'll warm you up."

"What?" Hermione barely managed an outraged screech with her teeth like maracas.

"Relax Granger, it's just a warming charm. Don't get your knickers in a twist." He beckoned towards him, and she whined in protest. "Come on, I don't want you complaining the whole way down thank you very much."

"You're awful at charms." Her machinations sounded weak even to her, but she did not really want his wand pointed at her for any reason, thank you very much. It made her nervous. The burn on her jaw itched whenever he got too close.

"Relax." He said again, moving closer. "A first year can't muck this up, although Longbottom might do a good job."

Hermione snorted. "Neville's better at charms now."

"Really?" His voice was calm and placating as he moved even closer, wand outstretched. Hermione hardly noticed as she continued her spiel somewhere vaguely in the direction of Malfoy's chest.

"Yeah he is actually, I helped him. He actually did a really good warming charm on a cup of tea he brought me last month, it stayed warm for ages-ooh." Hermione was brought out of her blabbering by a deliciously warm feeling spreading down her spine, the back of her neck and down her calves.

"There." He said, voice soft and low. Hermione looked up to where he stood, barely a hairs width from her. She scowled.

"You distracted me."

"I did." Another admission meant to placate.

"You did it wordlessly?" She asked, mildly surprised by his aptitude.

"It's a _first year_ charm Granger, I'm not a dunce." he intoned drolly, shrugging his shoulders. "You really should've brought a hat and scarf, you know. You look quite ridiculous in that get up. It's not proper." He gestured towards her sparse outfit in what little space they had between themselves. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're ridiculous."

"Perhaps." He replied.

"You don't need to be this close to continuously cast a warming charm." She reminded him quietly, it had been several minutes since he'd used his wand. The sun had almost completely set now, and the only thing she could make out from the dusky haze was Malfoy's flashing mischievous eyes.

"You don't." Malfoy nodded slowly. Their lips were almost touching, he brought his forehead down to rest gently on hers. Hermione found herself mesmerised by bright puddles of mercurial silver and could do little to move. She found that she did not really want to. There were snowflakes trapped in his eyelashes, she realised. He brought one gloved hand to rest on her cheek. Hermione heard a soft thud, and supposed that it would've been his broom. The other hand now rested on her ribs. She could feel his warmth radiating through his clothes.

They could've stayed like that in the dark for hours and Hermione would not have cared.

"Draco." She said shakily. His warm breath hitched.

"You really should've brought a hat." He whispered, and then brought his lips to hers. The kiss was mellow and soft but filled with unspoken sentiment. Whilst Draco had been largely surprised by their first, he took lead in this, kissing her soundly with a heat that Hermione had never experienced before. Her bare hands were pressed against his chest and they curled and gripped the soft fabric as the kiss became slower, wetter. She let out a tiny whimper as his hands trailed down the small of her back and pulled her closer. It felt good, almost inhumanly good, to be pressed up this close against Malfoy.

They broke apart after what felt like an age, and Hermione understood now what Wrackspurts felt like. They were buzzing around her ears and in her brain, making it dull and hard to think. She blinked once or twice, trying to clear her fuzzy head as she caught her breath.

Draco picked up his broom, a curious expression painted on his aristocratic features. "Get back to the castle Granger, it's getting cold." Hermione had barely noticed the blanket of snow that had fallen in the short space of time since they had arrived. He mounted his broom, and then kicked off. "I'll talk to you later."

"W-wait!" Hermione tried to say, but he was already high up in the trees, presumedly not able to hear her. She stomped the ground. Boys and their quidditch, always using it as an avoidance tactic. It was very immature. This would simply not do.

Her lips were sore as she walked back the castle alone and she was sure that her hair looked even more bushy than usual. Did people know? She wondered to herself as she saw crowds of students milling out of the classrooms. Could they see it painted on her face: _I've kissed Draco Malfoy_? Was it obvious?

So much for the mission.

_Luftmensch._

**A/N: Please review! Finally some more fluff lmao. Looks like they're managing to control their bickering for now, huh?**


	13. A Shower

Hermione was numb by the time she stumbled back into the common room. The warming charm that Draco had so begrudgingly cast had worn off long ago. Her head buzzed, she felt drunk with all her thoughts flitting around her ears. She made it to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes and turning on the water.

It took a while for the water to get warm, but to Hermione even the cool water felt like burning hot fire, snaking along her back and dripping down the backs of her shaking calves. The water slowly breathed life back into her freezing body, and she sank to the floor of the shower in relief. Sighing, she smoothed some scented shower gel over her aching limbs. She could still smell Malfoy, clean and smoky. She could still feel the soft knit of his glove against her cheek, how he held her firmly against him. She shuddered almost involuntarily. It felt unnatural, like everything in the world had shifted slightly to the left and she hadn't noticed._ He would talk to her later. _What did that mean? It really was quite immature to hide from such situations, but then, hadn't Hermione done the same thing only weeks ago?

She touched her lips experimentally. They didn't feel any different. She stepped out of the shower, instinctually reaching for her wand to dry herself with it and realising she still did not have it. Frowning, she looked in the mirror. They sure didn't _look_ any different. It was most curious.

She slipped on a thin silky dressing robe decorated with Hawaiian flowers, aiming to go look for her wand in the common room. Malfoy wouldn't be back for hours no doubt, surely it was safe to dart out and grab it?

The common room was deserted thankfully, and Hermione began searching amongst the chintzy cushions. It was nowhere to be found. She looked along the heavy wooden bookshelves that rested importantly along the wall. It was not there either. She thought to herself '_accio wand._' Nothing happened. She huffed. This was most unusual.

A flicker of doubt settled in her mind as she scanned the room. Her eyes landed on the blazing fireplace. _Surely_ not. Malfoy could not've stolen her wand and thrown it in the fire. She would've noticed! Now that she thought of it, when was the last time she'd even had her wand? She didn't remember. She rifled through some drawers and didn't find it there either. Creeping up to the fireplace, as if it were a particularly vicious blast-ended skrewt, she took a peek at its contents. Well it certainly didn't look very suspicious. No wand-shaped logs. Perhaps she was just being paranoid.

A loud crash pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Merlin Granger!" Malfoy had slipped over a pool of water by the portrait and was currently sprawled by the hatstand. She squealed, and looked frantically around for something to cover herself with. The closest item was a ridiculously tiny throw pillow, and she positioned it strategically.

"Malfoy!" She squeaked. He had righted himself.

"Cover up woman! Don't you have any decency at all?" His voice was strangely gruff and his hand was splayed across his eyes.

She whirled around, feeling a hot flush spread across her entire body. "Sorry! I didn't think you'd be back for ages. I was looking for my wand." She spoke in a tinny, embarrassed tone.

She heard soft footsteps but did not dare to turn around. "I'll just go... then..." She said awkwardly. Merlin, she was still sopping wet and dripping water all over the floor. The robe was soaked and stuck to her body.

Hermione took several steps behind her and collided with a body. "Sorry." She mumbled, making to move away. Malfoy grabbed one wrist that still held the pillow and the other hand snaked across her waist, effectively pinning her to him. He pulled her flush against his body and she gasped loudly.

His nose tickled the curve of her neck as he breathed in. "_Hermione._" His voice was hoarse and strained in her ear and she shuddered. It was delightful.

The hand that had been holding her wrist trailed up her bare wrist and teased across her covered arm. In their struggle, a shoulder had fallen from her loosely tied robe and he traced over the exposed fresh skin with delectable scrutiny. The same hand scraped the wet hair stuck to her neck, tossing it over her shoulder. His lips descended onto her neck and Hermione fought to restrain a whimper. Draco left soft sinful kisses across her neck, her eyes shuttered in increasingly enticing levels of pleasure.

"You insist on testing my patience, little witch." His voice was desperately slow and velvety in her ear. "You are a delightful temptation." His words were liquid molten gold, twisting in Hermione's belly sublimely.

"Draco." She whimpered, as he moved to undo the tie of her gown. Her eyes suddenly snapped open. "I'm naked under here." She said timidly, hoping he would understand.

His hands detached themselves from her person in record time, and Hermione immediately felt the chill as he removed himself from her back. "Right." He said a little flatly. Suddenly feeling very vulnerable, she pulled the tie of her gown tighter, flicking the shoulder back onto herself. "Go get dressed. We need to talk." He said abruptly.

Hermione's brow furrowed, and she tried to turn around but Draco's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Go. You aren't dressed properly."

Hermione fought the urge to snort at Draco's ideas of impropriety and instead shrugged his hand off. "Fine. I won't be a minute."

As she walked into her study pointedly not looking back, she heard a small crash, as if someone had rather violently kicked a table.

She dressed as quickly as she could, but it was sluggish. She could feel the chains of exhaustion beginning to set in. It had been a terribly long and tiring day. Hermione often got tired easily these days.

When she re-entered the common room not ten minutes later, this time with jeans and jumper very much deliberately on, it was empty.

On the table was Hermione's wand, a folded note, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Surprised, she took a sip and opened the note. Written in Malfoy's sloping elegant scrawl in sparkling emerald ink was the following:

**Your wand was in the kitchen. I didn't call you in case you came thundering out half-naked **

**like it seems all you Gryffindors are experts at doing. Drink up, I've gone to get supper.**

**I'll be back soon,**

**D. Malfoy.**

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes as she took another tentative sip from the drink. Even when he was being sweet he was still a giant prat. It was strange that he'd found her wand in the kitchen, she couldn't remember even going in there before she'd left this evening. She struggled to remember when she'd been there last, a strange woozy feeling clouded her brain and intoned: _sleep, sleep, sleep _very comfortingly and persuasively. Hermione was almost helpless but to follow. It was a very demanding voice. Overwhelmed, she dropped the mug, hearing the floor tinkle with the sound of breaking china.

"Malfoy!" She tried to yell, but only a quiet groggy voice came out. "Malfoy, I'm gonna fucking murder you." She fought for breath, "You-, you-'ve drugged me." Her eyelids drooped shut as they succumbed to the overwhelming pressure. Her legs gave out from underneath her, and she slumped to the floor. Fucking _Malfoy._

* * *

When Draco returned to the common room, he found Hermione collapsed in a rather unattractive heap behind the sofa. Next to her was a small puddle of now-cold hot chocolate and a broken mug. Rolling his eyes, he quickly cleaned up the mess. Really, there was no need to have made quite such a fuss. He picked her up easily, laying her on the sofa gently with her head propped up with pillows and her favourite blanket wrapped around her knees.

Even in sleep she was pretty, Draco noted. Perhaps more so, because her mouth wasn't open and making such a horrific racket. Her skin was pale and faintly glowing like always. Her slowly drying chestnut hair fanned out like a halo around her head. Her chest rose and fell peacefully with the timing of her breath, and Draco found himself oddly comforted by the motion.

She could not have known that he'd known that she hadn't had her wand with her tonight. He was sure that she did not see him slip it into his cloak pocket before they left. It was a strange precaution, collecting wands. But ever since Draco's wand had been stolen from him during the war -Saint _Potter_, he thought ruefully- he'd felt an unnerving compulsion to check them. The fact she found herself frequently without hers was a mystery to him. He'd lied to her, claiming that he'd found it as soon as he'd come back. The guilt bubbled in his stomach unfamiliarly. Malfoys didn't feel guilt.

She stirred fretfully and Draco's reverie was broken. He stared at her. She should be waking soon, from the looks of things she hadn't drank most of the potion before she'd passed out. It was only a sleeping draught, nothing harmful, but he didn't doubt that she'd begin to cause a big ruckus as soon as she got her wits about her.

"Draco." She murmured. "I'm gonna hex your bollocks off." Her voice was slurred lazily, a side effect of the potion.

"I highly doubt there's any cause for that." He remarked amusedly. She jerked up suddenly.

"What did you do to me?".

"Relax Granger, it was just a sleep potion."

"Whadd'ya do that for?" Hermione dug her shoulder back into the pillow, her voice still thick with sleep. "Didn't consent did I." She paused. "You're so suspicious."

He ignored her and continued talking. "When's the last time you had a good night's sleep Granger?"

Still pliable from the effects of the potion, her reply was muffled from beneath the cushions. "Third year. Madam Pomfrey knocked me out with about three dozen potions."

"Okay, when's the last time you had a decent meal?"

Her head popped up from the small mountain of pillows, bushy hair beginning to cloud around her face. "What?"

"You heard me, you look exhausted. Potions like that shouldn't affect you that quickly on a full stomach, you hardly drank any of it." He frowned, she was always peaky-looking now. He couldn't help the modicum of concern he felt for the girl. Only unintelligible grumbling could be heard from the vague shape that was Hermione. Clearly she was too embarrassed to answer him properly.

"I thought you were bad at Potions." She said, wonky smile pulling across her teeth. "You're getting better." She said proudly. Draco fought the urge to press his fingers against his temples.

Well, if he wanted to have a serious discussion with her about this, she'd have to at least be awake and comprehensible, he thought to himself. She rarely did anything to the best of her abilities anymore but this was important. "Go back to sleep Granger, this can wait till later." He sighed, rubbing his hands on his knees and making a movement as if to stand.

"Wait!" She protested, still slurring over her words. She tried to outstretch her arms, but they were tangled underneath her blanket. "Stay with me?" Her voice was timid. "I hate being alone."

Draco ran a hand through his hair, cursing whatever Gods that placed him with such a childish roommate. He looked into her pleading eyes and felt his heart soften. "Fine." He plonked himself back on the sofa unceremoniously, dimming the candle with his wand. Reluctantly, he allowed her to rest her feet on his lap, noting with amusement that she had big fuzzy socks on.

"What time is it?" Was the final thing she muttered sleepily.

"2am." He would've replied, but she was already back fast asleep. She must have accumulated one hell of a sleep deficit. Internally Draco shook his head, yawning to himself. He hoped she did not remember this part.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Important chapter this one, I really enjoyed writing it. Please review or leave criticism if you have anything to contribute! Thanks again x**


	14. A Late Morning

**A/N: Hi, bit of a longer author's note just to start off this chapter for some clarification. Several reviewers have asked/commented on the fact they can't reconcile Draco hurting Hermione in the earlier chapters with the behaviour. To clarify, Draco never actually meant to hurt Hermione but his magic was out of control. Both characters are suffering from ptsd and a lot of unresolved feelings, especially from the war, which can cause them to react in unsavory ways. For Draco, the mention of his family was a particularly sore point and he reacted badly. He intended to intimidate Hermione because he doesn't want his family being used against him, he's a very insecure and damaged character in that sort of area. I'm considering exploring that in future chapters but not for now at least. I apologise if my writing's been a bit confusing or bad in that regard. please enjoy this next chapter, i really appreciate all the feedback :)**

* * *

When Hermione woke up she felt extremely warm and well-rested. Her bones didn't ache, and her mind was blissfully clear. The warm vestiges of sleep held her in their arms and provided some blessed relief. Hermione hadn't felt this good physically in years, she thought as she turned over in her bed. Perhaps she'd get another ten minutes. She cracked her neck experimentally and was surprised when her head knocked into something solid.

"Oof, will you watch what you're doing." It was a pale chin that she had cracked into and Hermione started in surprise. Apparently she was not in her bed after all.

Opening her eyes blearily, she noticed that she was sitting in the dimly lit common room. Her head was tucked neatly under somebody's arm and she lay almost on their lap. She could smell the faint scent of candle wax and washing powder. Hm, part of that scent registered as familiar to her.

"Malfoy?" She said incredulously. She turned to look up at him and he cracked one eyelid open.

He grumbled incoherently and Hermione felt the vibrations of his chest underneath his head. "Go back to sleep Granger." His voice was gruff and thick with sleep. His hand stroked her hair lazily. It felt rather agreeable and she soon felt her eyes flutter shut, almost against her will. She did say ten more minutes right? Hermione sighed contentedly as Malfoy pulled her closer into his chest. He felt firm and safe and secure and Hermione was surrounded by his comforting scent. She breathed him in slowly and felt her arms creep around his sweater-clad torso.

"Do you ever stop fidgeting, woman?" He murmured into her hair and she chuckled softly.

"'M sorry." She replied sleepily, withdrawing her arms from around his chest. "You're just not very comfy." She heard Draco snort in amusement. She watched him experimentally. His face looked remarkably crease-free and peaceful at this time of the morning, and Hermione found the handsome expression rather suited his face. His platinum hair fell messily around his face, framing it in a pale pretty way that was surprisingly masculine. He badly needed a haircut but Hermione thought it quite suited him in a charming sort of way.

She shuffled uncomfortably, her neck was beginning to get a crick in it. As much as she didn't want to remove the arm from around her she did reluctantly so, sitting up and brushing the hair from her eyes.

"Sweet dreams?" He said wryly. Even half asleep he was still a prat.

She groaned in response, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. Merlin, she was still in her clothes from last night. Why hadn't she gotten into her pyjamas? In fact, why was she here in the first place?

"How did we get here?" She yawned, catching sight of a note on the nearby table. Malfoy followed her gaze and went to grab it, but she was too fast for him. Reading over it quickly, her brow furrowed. The nights activities were beginning to come back to her.

Malfoy had kissed her, he'd kissed her neck, he'd almost seen her naked. Hermione cringed at that last one. The last thing she remembered was drinking a cup of hot chocolate and feeling extremely sleepy. She smacked his arm.

"You bastard!" She said furiously. "You put a sleeping draught in my drink!" She went to slap him again and he blocked it. Panicking, she looked for her wand. It was sitting on the table and she grabbed it.

"Don't hex me Granger." Malfoy replied tiredly. "At least let me explain first." Hermione felt righteous indignation bubble in her stomach.

"Explain? What could there possibly be to explain? You drugged me!" Hermione was shouting now, her voice rising in pitch and volume. Draco buried his head in his hands and mumbled.

"Merlin give me strength, I am not a morning person." He paused for a moment and then continued. "It was important that you got some rest, I wasn't intending for you to sleep quite so long but when I spoke to you last night it was clear that you needed it. It's clear you can't be trusted to take care of your own health." Hermione made to interrupt but was silenced with a stern look from Draco. "You're dead on your feet all the time Granger, just look at you."

"It's not your right to decide what's good for me." She replied obstinately.

"Maybe not." He shrugged. "But don't you feel better for it? You need somebody to look out for you."

Hermione paused. She did feel a lot better, maybe he was right. It was so hard to keep track of everything by herself. She felt a twinge of irritation at the thought and replied back snappishly. "I would have more people to look out for me if you hadn't've forced me to stay away from half of my friends!"

Draco waved his hand in the air dismissively. "You're completely missing the point, we've had pointless discussion after pointless discussion about Finnegan and I'm not wasting any more time on it. We have more important things to talk about."

Hermione felt dread pool her stomach. "You mean the kiss." She nibbled her lip nervously.

"Kisses, plural." He reminded her. Hermione shook her head.

"What is there to talk about?" She felt the sudden compulsion to put her hands over her ears and start singing. This was not a discussion she wanted to have, especially with Malfoy of all people. Last night she had felt so emboldened by the kisses, so wanton and ready to accept whatever Malfoy had thrown at her. This was not the same Hermione Granger. She felt timid, scared. The usual realistic Hermione was staring her in the face and reminding her about Harry and Ron, reminding her why this could never work, reminding her that this was Draco Malfoy, of all people.

"Come on Granger, don't start this." He tried to coax from her, he reached for her hand and she pulled it away quickly. Draco flinched and Hermione could've sworn she saw a flicker of hurt flash across his face.

She stood up. "I've got to go. Classes will start soon."

"It's Sunday." He replied disbelievingly.

She drew her lip between her teeth. "Tutoring then. Either way, I've got to go." She walked briskly out of the room, not waiting for a reply, although she heard Malfoy shouting something about her being extremely difficult behind her. Cogs were whirring in Hermione's brain. What if Malfoy was lying? What if he knew that she had followed him to keep an eye on him last night, and he had given her the potion so he could slip off in the night?

She took a piece of parchment from her desk and began to write a note to Ginny.

**Dear G,**

**did you see anything out of the ordinary yesterday? Something happened last night.**

**Meet me in the place at midnight tonight. **

**Love, H.**

She sealed it inside of an envelope quickly. She'd have to go to the Owlery to avoid attracting attention. Plus, she really didn't feel like going to the Great Hall for breakfast after what had happened last time. Perhaps it was antisocial, but that was post-war Hermione for you.

The common room was thankfully empty again, and she hurried all the way to the Owlery, letter clutched firmly to her chest.

* * *

Hermione met Ginny at midnight in the empty Astronomy classroom like she had said in her letter. She told her all that had happened last night -excluding the kiss, as was custom now- pausing only to let Ginny periodically gasp and curse Malfoy out.

"You're right 'Mione, he's definitely up to something." Hermione could see Ginny's determined face through the dim light of one solitary candle. "A few days ago, Padma Patil was on prefect duty and she saw Malfoy skulking about in the dungeons, wrote him up for being out of bed after hours and he didn't even say anything to her, he just walked straight off. She said that's the first time she's ever spoken to Malfoy and he's not made fun of her nose."

Hermione frowned. "What would he be doing in the dungeons? The only thing down there except classrooms is the Slytherin Common Room."

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "Beats me, he's not allowed in the Common Room anymore is he? One of the third year Slytherins I escorted into Hogsmeade was talking my ear off the whole way there and I'm pretty sure he mentioned it."

"He didn't say anything about that." Hermione said doubtfully.

"Well why would he? Bit embarrassing isn't it? From what I heard he had a big row with someone before term started. Of course nobody else knows where he's sleeping now, so I guess that's added to the rumours even more hasn't it?" Ginny explained. Hermione was feeling more stupid by the minute. Why would she expect Draco to have told her anything? It was foolish of her to pretend like they had some kind of kinship.

Hermione fiddled with her hangnail, thinking intently to herself, cogs whirring once more. "Who kicked him out, again? I thought none of the Eighth Year Slytherins came back this year." She asked, almost to herself.

"Who's that one, dark skin, really tall? Not the one on the Quidditch team, the other one."

"Blaise Zabini?" Ginny nodded.

"Yeah him, well apparently he never picked a side during the war so Slytherin's elected him as their new psuedo-leader type now Malfoy's gone. I hardly ever saw him around before this year, only at Slug Club. Why do you ask?" Her voice was uncomfortable

"Well, if you were Malfoy, and got kicked out of your own house and humiliated like that. Wouldn't you want revenge on the man who did it?" Hermione asked thoughtfully, turning the words over her head as she said them. It sounded outlandish but the words made sense to her. What other reason could there be? We all knew Malfoy was prideful, and Hermione knew that he wasn't above hurting people to get what he wanted. It was difficult to equate the warm shy boy from this morning to the one she knew so well, but what other possibility could it be? Malfoy had been acting suspicious for weeks now.

Ginny sighed. "Looks like we're going to have to pay a visit to Captain Slytherin tomorrow, lets see what we can find out."

Hermione groaned. "Won't that look suspicious?"

Ginny gave a odd smile from beneath her red curls. "Don't you worry about that, I have my methods." Hermione's fears were not assuaged. That sounded very ominous to her, very ominous indeed.

When it was time for them to leave, when the candle had almost burnt to a tiny stub, Ginny stopped her. She had a guilty look in her eyes.

"Look, I'm really sorry about this. I didn't really know how to tell you." She was turning a thick envelope around in her hands that she had not had previously.

"What is it?" Hermione asked uneasily. Ginny passed her the letter.

"It was addressed to the both of us." She said.

**Dear Ginny and Hermione,**

**We've almost finished with Auror training, it's great. Difficult, but bloody brilliant. **

**We both miss you very much, ****do you think you could get permission from**

** Professor McGonagall to meet ****us at the next Hogsmeade weekend? It'd be great to see you.**

**Love always,**

**Harry and Ron.**

"Do you want to go?" Ginny asked nervously. "We could always write back and tell them McGonagall said no, it's not for a while yet."

Hermione shook her head. "That's not fair on you Gin, I know how much you've been missing Harry." Ginny flashed her a guilty smile. "We'll just have to figure something out."

"Thanks Hermione, you're the best!" Ginny gushed happily, plans for the next Hogsmeade trip reeling off her lips.

Despite her reassuring words, Hermione felt dread fill her stomach for the second time today. How was she going to face Ron? This was just one headache after another.

Deep in her thoughts, she hardly noticed when Ginny waved goodbye and left the classroom. For once, she wished she had somebody to talk to that didn't agree with her all the time. Her mind flashed to Malfoy, she couldn't, could she? Did she have a choice?


	15. A Glass of Water and Plaid Pyjamas

**A/N: Hi guys, just wanted to start off this chapter by saying that we hit 100 followers! Wooo, thank you so much for all your kind reviews and favourites, it's super duper encouraging and really nice to hear. I've been getting a bit of negative feedback on some of my other stories so I feel like this one is sort of my solace at the moment :) love you all, - BJ x**

Draco had a fitful night. He dreamt of cold nights in Malfoy Manor and Lord Voldemort's cackle. He twitched in his sleep, feeling the imaginary branding of the Dark Mark crackle at his skin over and over again. It had become almost invisible since His defeat, but he could still hear the screams of innocent witches and wizards. He woke up panting, boiling hot and sweaty. Desperately thirsty, he staggered to the bathroom.

To his surprise, it was already occupied. "Oh, sorry Granger." Hermione was brushing her teeth. Instead, he conjured himself a glass of water, wondering why he hadn't bothered to do that in the first place. He quickly caught his breath as Hermione looked at him with questioning eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted her pity at the moment. She spat her toothpaste into the sink and rinsed.

"Nightmares?" She asked apprehensively. He gave a reluctant nod.

"We all get them." She started but Draco shooed her away.

"I don't want to talk about it Granger." He muttered gruffly. He noticed now that she was only clad in red plaid pyjamas and was feeling a little underdressed: he was only wearing bottoms. Her gaze flickered downwards and she flushed, turning around quickly. Clearly she had noticed too.

"Sorry." He offered. "I didn't think there'd be anyone in here, it's really late."

She snorted softly, back still facing him. "So much for your lectures about being proper. I was out with Ginny." Draco didn't feel the need to tell her that he had checked the map before he had gone to sleep and thus already knew.

"Well, you should get some rest." He tried. She sighed.

"You know, Malfoy. I didn't get any nightmares that night, -you know- when I slept with you." Her voice was shy and probing and Draco felt a lurch of something unrecognisable in his stomach. "I'm just saying, if you wanted to. I wouldn't mind." She said quickly. "But not like, _sleep_-sleep with you. You know what I mean."

It was a tempting offer, and Draco itched to accept it. However, he hadn't the gall to demote his pride to quite that level and he rebutted her awkwardly. "Uh, no I think I'll be okay. Thanks though Granger." Merlin, Draco felt like Frankie First Year.

She yawned tiredly and Draco wished he could disappear. "That's okay." She turned to leave, looking at him once more sadly. "But it would be okay to talk about your feelings every once in a while too, Draco." His mind zeroed in on the last word. -_Draco Draco Draco Draco_\- It pinged around his brain like a particularly fanged frisbee.

"You can talk." He retorted back, he was still pissed at her for running off earlier. With that, she disappeared wordlessly through the door. Draco sank onto the (closed) toilet seat, sipping his water and feeling like he got hit over the head with a brick.

When he finally got back to sleep, the nightmares came back in full force. He'd used the last of his sleeping draught supply on Hermione, and while he didn't regret the decision, he wished he had the foresight to brew or purchase some more. Preferably the last option, since he was shite at Potions. He tossed and turned fitfully, waiting for the neverending torture to finally cease. He dreamt of soft brown eyes dripping in tears, a pretty pink mouth screaming in terror.

Well, it was actually him that was screaming. He'd woken himself up with a shout and as he sprang up his head hit the bannister of his four-poster. To his shame, his eyes were wet with tears. He wiped them away quickly and got out of bed. Before he knew it, he was knocking on the door opposite his. He opened it carefully; it creaked. "Granger?" He said hoarsely into the darkness.

"Draco?" Came her sleepy voice. Within seconds she'd lit her wand. "What's wrong?" He didn't answer, preferring instead to crawl across the bed and into her soft arms. His pride was officially in the toilet. She made comforting shushing noises and stroked his hair. He clutched her desperately, as if she was his anchor to the world, to sanity. Before long, he was drifting into blissful dreamless sleep.

* * *

Hermione woke up entangled limb-to-limb with Draco Malfoy. There was a sentence she did not say very often. His head rested softly on her chest, and he had his arm thrown around her clumsily. Their legs were tangled together and Hermione fought to get free as quietly as possible. She really needed to pee.

He groaned and pulled her closer. "Where are you going?"

"Toilet." She squeaked desperately. He was still topless. Draco released her with another grumble, and she hopped off gratefully to go to the toilet.

When she came back he was sitting upright, propped up by her pillows and the duvet hung scandalously low on his hips. She blushed. "Morning." He said smoothly, smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

She fought back a giggle. "Hey." She tried instead. Draco patted the space next to him on the bed.

"Come on, we need to talk." His voice was serious.

She clambered next to him as he began to talk. "You can't tell anyone about this Granger. Not even Weasley." He clarified: "She-Weasley."

"I don't want anybody to know about this." His voice was hard. Hermione felt slightly offended.

"I wasn't going to tell anybody." She replied quietly, staring at her hands that were twisting the duvet around and around.

He made a doubtful noise and Hermione opened her big mouth again. "Why must you insist on being so difficult all the time Draco?" It was snappish, and she knew it.

"I'm not difficult." He answered obstinately.

"You so are! Nothing's ever easy with you. You put a sleeping draught in my drink! You kept my business a secret from me!" Everything seemed to come back to the same argument with them. It was neverending.

"How many times do I have to explain myself? I did it to protect you!" His voice rose a little in irritation and Hermione flinched. She stared into his light eyes unblinkingly.

"I don't need you to protect me." Her voice shook a little. "I don't need you to decide what's best for me."

Draco's voice softened. "No, you don't. But don't you want it? Don't you want somebody to depend on, to know they've got your back?"

Hermione faltered. The words had found a crack in the defensive wall she'd put around herself and exploited it. She found her trembling hands reaching up and clasping around the back of Draco's neck. His intense gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips and back again. Hermione took a tiny breath, feeling like a deer in the headlights.

"Don't you?" He murmured again. Hermione did not answer him, preferring instead to crash her lips on his. It was messy and slightly rushed: their teeth clinked together once or twice as they found their rhythm. But they were _kissing_, properly kissing. There were no restraints, and the pure unresolved emotion of it all was almost beautiful. Draco's hands slid up her shirt and onto her back, scratching her a little with sharp nails. Hermione whimpered, feeling the kiss deepen perceptibly. She ran her fingers through the short cropped hair close to his neck and he groaned, a dark dangerous sound that put heat in Hermione's belly.

He began to kiss down her neck, leaving a soft trail across her jaw and earlobe. It was light and teasing. Hermione was practically in his lap now. "We have to stop." He whispered against her collarbone, the soft breath tickling it. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as he kissed back up the column of her neck. "We have to stop." His voice was protesting.

"We have to stop." She replied back, her own voice breathy as she tipped her head back to give him more access, sliding her legs to straddle his lap. She smoothed her hands against his bare chest.

"Fuck, Granger. _Hermione_. You're driving me absolutely potty." His voice was rumbling and hoarse with sleep in her ear and she could've shivered with the delightful sound of her given name falling from his lips. She would've stayed in his warm embrace for as long as she could. Finally, he pulled away from her, both of their chests heaving with heavy breaths.

Potty. The thought of it made her lip twitch in amusement. Oh, _Potty_, Potter. _Harry_! Suddenly she remembered last night's events with a guilty start. Harry and Ron were coming to visit! She needed a plan, and fast. Christmas Hogsmeade Weekend was in less than twelve days. The second weekend in December.

She jumped up. "I have to go!" Malfoy looked up at her, quirking a brow jovially. "Well, you have to go. This is actually my bedroom." She admitted, pulling him up by his hands and pushing him towards the door. "Lots of things to do today you see, got to get dressed!" Her voice was unusually chirpy. "I'll see you at tutoring!" She slammed the door shut, resting her back on it for a moment before scrambling to find her robes. She thought she might've heard something from outside her door that sounded suspiciously like '_crazy witch_' but she could've been mistaken. That could wait for now. There was plotting to be done!

* * *

The next time she saw Draco she was hand-in-hand with Ginny, disillusionment charm firmly on the both of them. She resisted the urge to gasp. Despite all she'd coached herself, he still looked impeccably handsome. She did little to fight the thoughts as they came now, for what was the point? They'd come anyways. She drank in the sight of his squared shoulders and defensive posture. Even above his robes he carried himself with a regal importance befitting his bloodline. She scoffed, perhaps she was getting carried away with herself. Ginny elbowed her. He was moving now.

They followed him out of the castle and into the greenhouses. He walked quickly, so to avoid the many stares that he attracted. Hermione empathised with that: it did tend to get very annoying. They fought to keep up with his long strides, silently panting.

He entered Greenhouse 12, looking behind him before he slipped in. Hermione and Ginny flattened themselves to the wall. Disillusionment charms were not infallible like Harry's Invisibility Cloak, they'd have to be cautious.

The duo watched him through the glass as he carefully examined the plants. He took out a pair of silver shears and a glass vial. Hermione's eyes widened as he walked up to a plant that she did not recognise and began pruning it, being careful to place the tiny leaves into the vial.

"What is he doing?" Ginny mouthed next to her. She shrugged, eyes still fixed on the back of his silvery-blonde head.

His head whipped around and they both ducked out of pure instinct. Perhaps he had heard them. Hurriedly, he stowed away the equipment into his bag and strolled out of the greenhouse quickly. To anybody else, he would look relaxed, casual. But Hermione could see his rigid posture and clenched jaw. He was suspicious. Panic filled her brain.

As soon as he'd gotten a hundred meters away, Ginny lifted the charm.

"Merlin 'Mione, you've got to report him!" She looked stressed. "What was that in there?"

Hermione's forehead creased in worry. "I don't know. I can't report him yet Gin, he might not be doing anything wrong! We need proper proof."

Ginny started to splutter in protest "but Mione! What if it's dangerous?"

Hermione cut her off firmly. "This is Azkaban we're talking about Gin, it's not detention with Professor Filch. If Malfoy's caught violating his parole, that's it. No second chances."

Ginny had the sense to look a little mollified. "Fine. But we need to talk to Zabini ASAP. Perhaps he can tell us about what Malfoy's been up to."

Hermione massaged the bridge of her nose. "Owl me with a time when you know for certain. I need to get back to the castle, Smith is insisting I revise the Prefect timetables yet again with him."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "He's such a prick, I don't know how he ever ended up becoming a prefect." Personally, Hermione agreed. They walked back to the castle together as Hermione made nervous conversation.

"Have you replied to Harry and Ron yet?"

Ginny nodded to the affirmative, then squeezed Hermione's hand. "It'll be okay. You don't even need to speak to them for very long. I'll keep them busy." She winked.

Hermione smiled wanly back at her. "I was thinking of coming down with a fever that day, Wheezes-style." She joked cynically.

Ginny gasped. "That's actually not a bad idea. Why don't you do it?" Hermione gave her an incredulous side-eye.

"I'm being serious Mione. Let them see you, say hello and all that, then eat the sweets without them noticing and go back to the castle after you've explained how ill you're feeling. I can keep them in Hogsmeade for the rest of the day. It's perfect!" She clapped her hands excitedly. "What a great idea!"

Hermione chuckled. Perhaps it wasn't the worst idea in the world. Again, she felt the imperceptible need to run it by Draco. What had he said? She wanted somebody to look out for her. Maybe he was right.


	16. A Pensieve

Over the next few days Hermione and Draco settled into a steady routine. For the most part, they'd ignore each other, feigning civility in front of the general public was easy. Every night at around 1am Hermione would feel Draco crawl into beside her and she would listen to his shallow breaths as he tried to catch them. She didn't mind, his embrace generally kept away the bad dreams for her too. He would usually be gone by morning.

They hadn't kissed since that Sunday morning. He barely even touched her, save for the midnight respite. Occasionally he would wait for her to get up in the mornings, and she'd walk into the kitchen and her breath would catch. He didn't need to ask how she liked her tea anymore and Hermione was glad the quiet lull it provided them whenever he did decide to stick around.

She hadn't spoken to Ginny since the weekend, Hermione assumed that she would be busy enacting her plan to arrange the meeting with Blaise Zabini. Hermione had tried her best to identify the plant with tiny leaves in Greenhouse 12, but all the Herbology books in the library were strangely missing. When she'd asked Madam Pince about it, she'd said that Neville had checked them all out months ago. Hermione was much too prideful to ask Neville for help. Besides, the utmost discretion was necessary when dealing with such activities. She didn't hesitate to assume that Neville would go straight to Professor McGonagall if he knew what Malfoy was up to. All in all it was incredibly frustrating.

Salvation came on the next Thursday morning over breakfast. It was one of those days that Malfoy had decided to stick around for, and they sat in comfortable silence around the fire. It was a particularly cold morning, and Hermione's breath misted up her tea cup whenever she took a sip. Ginny's owl, -a snowy white bird on loan from the school-, tapped against the frosty window impatiently. Hermione gasped, immediately recognising the beast and jumped up.

The owl was nippy and reluctant to give over the letter. She had tried to give it a crust from her toast but it turned its beak up haughtily at the yeasty jam-covered treat.

"Suit yourself." Hermione muttered under her breath. It gave a loud indignant hoot and flew away.

She turned the letter over in her hands, already itching to open it. She sat back down just as Draco looked up.

"Post?" He asked taciturnly.

She nodded, opening the letter. "It's from Ginny."

**Dear H,**

**Meet us tonight where snails have no shells. At the time Harry was born. **

**He is coming. **

**Love G x**

And written in a thin, scrawly note in blue ink underneath:

**Bring a pensieve. -Z**

Hermione frowned, was there really any need for code? Harry was born at 6:13pm on the 31st July. Sometimes it was useful to have a photographic memory. Oh of _course_. Hermione smacked her head. She meant _Slug_horn's classroom, in the dungeons. It was an excellent idea, Slughorn rarely frequented his classroom outside of lessons, and Zabini would be on his home turf.

"Interesting letter?" She heard Malfoy smirk from opposite her.

She quickly incinerated it, sipping her tea innocently. "You have no idea."

* * *

Hermione was the first to arrive at Slughorn's. She was slightly out of breath, having just narrowly avoided a long and tedious conversation with Terry Boot about the niceties of Goblin Etiquette. She'd nearly bumped into Seamus on the way down too, and her stomach clenched at the sight of his scathing look. They had never really resolved that. She checked over her shoulder, suddenly nervous that she was being followed.

After she'd checked, then checked again, she pulled out the minaturised pensieve from her satchel. It hadn't been easy to aquire, she'd had to sneak into Professor McGonagall's office under a disillusionment charm at lunchtime and several portraits had tutted at her in a scolding fashion. It reminded her of Draco. When she dared look at Professor Dumbledore's portrait, his piercingly blue eyes had only twinkled in amusement.

She jumped, hearing voices behind her, and scrambled to pull out her wand. She turned around quickly and was immediately greeted with the sight of a giggling Ginny arm in arm with one Blaise Zabini. Her eyes were dopey and unfocused, looking every part the doting air-head. "Hey Hermione! Glad you got my message then." She simpered, giving her a sideways glance from behind the tall man.

Hermione lowered her wand cautiously as Blaise extricated his hand from Ginny's waist, presumedly for her to shake. "Blaise Zabini, I don't think we've ever met." His accent was vaguely Italian. She shook it awkwardly as Ginny gave a high giggle.

"Cut the shit Ginevra, I'm not stupid." He said in an amused tone, pushing her shoulder lightly. Her expression immediately turned sour, and she removed her hands from Zabini's person with a pout.

"Bastard. I was having fun." She muttered.

They all took a seat at adjacent desks. Hermione noted that Zabini's posture was ramrod straight against the stool he sat on.

"We'd like to talk to you about something that happened at the start of term. Confidentially of course." Hermione began nervously, twisting her hands in her lap.

"That means keep your giant trap shut." Ginny interrupted, staring a hole through Zabini. He stared back at her and Hermione was left feeling a bit out of the loop. Did they know each other? She distinctly remembered Ginny struggling to identify him last week. She pocketed the information and resolved to thoroughly question Ginny about it later.

"Sure thing, we can make a Wizarding Oath." They were still staring at eachother. Hermione cleared her throat apprehensively.

"Great, well, Ginny can be our witness." She held out her hand expectantly.

He took it, finally flickering his intense gaze towards Hermione. Ginny performed the charm quickly, Hermione felt the familiar feelings of rushed magic wash over her.

"Brilliant well. Now I guess we can get started." Hermione said brightly. "What we really need to talk to you about is Draco Malfoy." She paused, waiting for some kind of reaction. Zabini gave her none.

"He's up to something, we think it concerns you." Ginny cut in again. She was never usually this curt, and Hermione started in surprise.

"Yeah well, we need to know what happened at the start of term. We heard you got into a pretty big fight." Hermione continued, looking curiously at Ginny who just continued staring at Zabini. She gestured to the pensieve that rested innocently on the desk in front of them. "I brought what you asked for."

He rolled his eyes, pulling out his rather short wand and pressing it to his temple. He extracted the memory and it hung silverly from the end of his wand. "This is it."

Hermione had never been inside a pensieve before, but she knew how they worked. She placed the now-enlarged dish closer to Zabini. "Ready when you are." and then she dived in.

_Slytherin Common Room was a dank affair, barely lit, barely repaired. Large chunks of stone were still missing, gashed from the walls. She saw Zabini, sitting glumly on a sofa by himself. The portrait opened, and one Draco Malfoy walked in, arms full of his things. Hermione fought the urge to admire his nerve. It was a ballsy move._

_"Zabini, good to see you." Draco's voice was quiet and formal, the sound slightly altered from being in a memory._

_"What are you doing here?" Zabini spoke now, his voice tinted with aggression. Draco looked mildly shocked._

_"Mate, I live here."_

_"Not anymore. What makes you think we want you here?"_

_Draco scoffed, dropping his bags with a thud on the floor. "I don't think that's really your place to decide."_

_"We don't welcome your kind here"_

_"My kind? I'm a snake, just like you." Draco's voice was incredulous and Hermione bit back the tears rising in her eyes. This was horrible to watch because she knew what was coming._

_"Death Eaters." Zabini spat. "Murderers. Disgusting Scum of the Earth."_

_"Fuck you Zabini, you know nothing about that." Hermione had rarely heard Draco properly shout, but this sent chills down her spine. It was another level of venomous. _

_"Don't I? Or have you forgotten about the past year?"_

_"You did just as much as me, don't think I haven't forgotten about your little adventures from last year. If it wasn't for me both you and her would be dead." _

_Zabini slammed his first on the mantelpiece. "Don't you dare bring her into this."_

_"I'll do whatever the fuck I want. You owe me."_

_"I watched you help the Carrows for nearly five months before you ran off home to your pathetic Mummy and Daddy, I didn't testify against you. I owe you bugger all." Zabini was pacing angrily._

_"How dare you! Don't you dare mention my family! You insolent little-" Draco flew at Zabini, wand in his hand. Blaise's eyes lit up with mirth and he chucked lowly._

_"Go on, I dare you. They'll throw you back in Azkaban before you can say Quidditch." He paused, smile lighting up his face. "I'd like nothing better."_

_Malfoy faltered, lowering his wand. He magicked his things into a big heap, and sent them flying out of the portrait. "I'll get you back for this Zabini, I swear." Was all he said before he turned away. The memory swam and Hermione knew it was over._

She emerged from the pensive with tears dripping down her face. Zabini looked at her with his big impassive eyes. Ginny looked gobsmacked. Clearly she'd seen the same thing she had.

"That was awful." She breathed. Was this why Malfoy had to room with her this year? Had her favourite professor lied to her?

Zabini shrugged. "You didn't see some of the stuff he was doing last year Granger. He deserved what he got." He waited for them to collect themselves before continuing. "Slytherin House need to rebuild themselves. We need to rescue our reputation if we are to survive. That includes pruning the tree."

Hermione felt sick. "Was that all it was, self preservation?" It was Ginny that had spoken, she too was slightly green.

"We're not Hufflepuffs." He shrugged again before standing and smoothing his robes. "I've shown you everything I know. There's nothing more that I can do for you. If Malfoy really is plotting against me, let him come. He'll just end up back in Azkaban where he belongs. Perhaps they'll put him with his precious father." He strode out of the room without another word.

Hermione turned to Ginny, still feeling bells ringing around her ears. "What the bloody hell was that." What all she could say.

Ginny shook her head with her mouth open. "I guess we were right."

"Right about what?" A smooth familiar voice chimed in. Hermione flinched.

"Hello Malfoy." She said weakly, not bothering to turn around. She could already see that her fears were correct from Ginny's horrified face.

"Right about what?" He repeated, pulling her chair around so she faced him. It made a loud screech against the flagstone and Hermione squeaked in surprise. She was bound to silence per the Wizarding Oath. She could not say anything about it.

When she didn't respond, he continued speaking in his rich imperious tone, practically boring a hole through Hermione with his eyes. "Imagine my surprise when I show up to our scheduled tutoring lesson and nobody is there. I waited ten, twenty minutes and still nobody arrived. I think to myself '_wow, I sure hope nothing has gone terribly wrong._' else, why would Granger miss our Potions lesson? She loves Potions. But it seems I was dreadfully mistaken." He let his eyes flit across the dark Potions classroom. Hermione whimpered softly. His hands were still on the underside of her stool and he was leaning close to her face.

"Malfoy, wait. I can explain-" She tried.

"I checked your stupid map Granger. Standing me up for Blaise Zabini? Not a wise choice sweetheart." He said flatly, eyes flashing dangerously. "I'll deal with you later."

He spared a condescending glance towards Ginny as he straightened. "If I were you, I'd follow your own advice every once in a while." She harrumphed.

"Just because you can threaten Hermione doesn't mean it works on me, genius." She retorted caustically. "Now piss off."

He glared at them both, turning on his heel and striding out of the now-silent classroom.

"Okay what the hell." Ginny started. Hermione drew her knees up to her chin, feeling dreadful. "Why does he still have the map?"

Hermione's voice was quiet. "He doesn't, I locked it in my bedroom. He must've found a way to get past the enchantments on my drawers." Hermione realised with growing foreboding that he would've had the perfect opportunity to whilst she slept. With him. Oh Merlin, how could she've been so stupid?

Ginny groaned, tightening her ponytail.

"What did he mean Gin?" Hermione had questions of her own. "When he said 'follow your own advice.'" She looked uneasily at Hermione, and then at the floor.

"I want to preface this by saying I never meant for it to happen. I love Harry." She took a deep breath. "Around this time last year, I was being tortured a lot by the Carrows. It was bad. I didn't have anyone to talk to, Neville was already in hiding. I didn't know where he'd gone." There were big tears running down her face. "One night, after it got really bad, someone took me somewhere. It was him, Blaise. He healed me, hid me. He protected me from them, lied to them. For _me_."

Hermione thought Ginny was lying when she said Zabini hadn't picked a side. It was very clear to her that he'd chosen one after all. "I s-_slept_ with him. and then I r-_ran_." She sobbed. Hermione put a protective arm around her. "I didn't see him again till after, after F-Fred." Hermione's chest constricted. "He just pretended like he didn't see me. We just pre-pretended that we didn't know e-eachother. We've been pretending that everything's okay and it's _not_. I'm so sorry for lying to you"

"Does Harry know?" She asked

Ginny sniffled and shook her head. "I love Harry, I do. I always have. It's hard to explain." Ginny shook. Hermione made comforting shushing noises, stroking her hair.

"It's okay Ginny, I understand." And for once, Hermione thought she actually might.

**A/N: Another chapter! Now we know why Draco reacted so badly that first night. He'd just got back from his argument with Blaise. I'm trying to write a lot these days, I just got my schedule for uni and I have loads of exams in several weeks so I won't be able to update as often. Wish me luck :\ As always, please review for feedback + more frequent updates. **


	17. A Spoonful of Sugar

**A/N: I'm really glad that several people have recognised that Ginny is upset because she knows Blaise took advantage of the situation. She feels guilty because Blaise helped her survive despite what would occur between them. I don't plan on exploring a BZ/GW pairing, I think recognising that Ginny wasn't just sitting around waiting for Harry to get back was important. But I still love HP/GW. This was my original intent but sometimes things aren't as clear on paper. I'm still doing my best to communicate my ideas in a comprehensible manner :) good to know I'm doing something right! Sending love to all of my lovely reviewers, I worked really hard on this chapter! - BJ X**

Hermione trudged the long walk up to Gryffindor Tower to the Dungeons. She was half-supporting Ginny, who had evidently cried all of her energy away because she clung onto Hermione like she was her life support. Her brain mulled over the past hour sluggishly. Draco had sworn revenge on Zabini. Zabini wanted to get Draco kicked out of Hogwarts and thrown into Azkaban. It was all very complicated.

She bumped into several prefects she knew along the way, it was only 8pm after all, and nodded at them awkwardly. So much for not attracting any attention.

When she finally approached the Fat Lady's portrait it occurred to her that she did not know the new password. She fidgeted a little on her feet before Ginny wearily said. "_Hippogriff spit._"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting." She managed a wry chuckle.

She put Ginny to bed in her dorm, she was clearly exhausted from tonight's emotional upheaval and Hermione couldn't blame her. They had exchanged several more heartfelt 'I love yous' and 'i'm sorrys' and 'please don't tell Harrys' before Ginny had felt satisfied enough to go to sleep. Hermione wished she'd had the foresight to brew some sleeping draught. Not everybody could escape the nightmares with a strange bedfellow like her.

She felt a rush of familial love at Ginny's selflessness. It must've been hard to confront Blaise for long enough to convince him to speak with Hermione. She'd have to send flowers, or perhaps chocolate, in secret. She frowned when she thought of the many secrets she was keeping. There were a dreadful many, and most of them didn't even belong to her. It was becoming increasingly exhausting to carry them with her, as she weaved a plot of fabrication around all the people that she cared for. They seemed to permanently rest in her belly, like large heavy stones.

Hermione suppressed a grimace at the thought of returning to her dorm tonight. It would be far too easy just to stay here with Ginny. But Hermione Granger was no coward, and so she trundled onwards to her rooms. If she had to face Malfoy's wrath, so be it. He couldn't find out what she was up to, she was bound by her magic now.

When she entered the portrait, whispered "_salve mundi_" and all, Draco was waiting for her.

She undid the fastenings of her cloak and unlaced her shoes, doing her best to ignore his crossed arms and pointed gaze.

"Finished?" He bit out. She walked past him, still completely ignoring him.

"Clearly not." Hermione heard him sigh.

She busied herself with putting the kettle on and pulling out cups and saucers from a cupboard.

"You're being a baby." He leant against the fridge, arms still crossed.

Hermione scoffed, pouring copious amounts of sugar into her teacup. "Oh _I'm_ being a baby." He said nothing for a while and she continued to angrily spoon sugar into her empty cup.

He caught her wrist, pulling the sugar bowl out of her grasp. "You're going to rot your teeth if you put anymore sugar in that tea Granger." His voice was soft and concerned and completely not what Hermione was expecting. She wrenched her wrist out of his grip.

"Don't touch me." She whispered angrily, conviction not quite there. That was the first time he'd consciously touched her in nearly a week.

He rolled his eyes, shoulders rolling back to his previous position against the fridge. "Whatever you say." His apathy irritated Hermione greatly, and she poured the tea quite aggressively.

She pushed a hot teacup into his hand forcefully and took the other herself. He followed her into the common room silently and Hermione fought the urge to scream. Where was the angry Draco from twenty minutes ago?

"What are you playing at Malfoy?" Her voice was petulant and she knew it.

He raised his eyes to hers. "I'm not doing anything." He said calmly, lifting the burning tea to his lips.

"Exactly. When does that happen? Never." Hermione answered her own question, feeling panic rising. She could deal with Angry Draco, Angry Draco was all she knew. She'd been getting into fights with Angry Draco for nearly eight years now. She could not however deal with this newfound persona: Disappointed Draco. Disappointed Draco made guilt eat away at her heart and self-doubt crawl into her skull.

"I've decided it would be in my best interests to calm down." He replied evenly, dangerous look flitting over his eyes. "After all, I'm not the one who was caught plotting in a dark classroom with an underage student and a _Slytherin_." He sipped his tea again nonchalantly.

"_You're_ a Slytherin!"

"Exactly. I need to know what you're up to." His voice was dry. Well, at least they were back to bickering.

"That's absolutely none of your business. You were spying on me again!"

"I thought something was wrong with you, you dimwitted idiot. You never miss our tutorials." His voice was scathing and Hermione flushed in guilty embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to!"

"Yeah well it'd better be for something important. This argument is becoming insufferable." He tipped his head forward like he was expecting an explanation.

Hermione scowled again. "I can't tell you anything about it."

Malfoy quirked his brow. "Zabini made you swear to it?" He seemed surprised.

"It was entirely consensual." Hermione shifted uncomfortably as Malfoy's eyes turned to slits. Perhaps that wasn't the best choice of words.

"You didn't leave him alone with Weaselette, did you?" He said after a while. Hermione didn't know whether she should feel jealous at his sudden concern over Ginny, he'd never expressed any such notion before.

"No, of course not!" She snapped before moderating her tone grumpily. "I don't know why that would be such a bad thing though, he seems to care about her."

Draco sighed, gesturing to the seat next to him on the sofa. "Sit." She took it, feeling very much like a dog. "Look, Granger. It's difficult to really get a picture of what Hogwarts was like under the Carrows unless you were there. It's not your fault. Weasley, she was-" He paused uneasily. "Well let's just say she was in bad shape, really bad shape. I wasn't supposed to find out, not really. Zabini was hiding her from everyone. He was helping her get better, but it wasn't healthy. She did the right thing to leave. Zabini's since outed himself as a giant prick."

Hermione felt tears prick at her eyelids and she settled into Draco's embrace, pulling her feet up to her chin. "Potter's much better for someone like Weasley anyway. Much more _noble_ for you poncey Gryffindor-types." His attempt at cracking a joke was half-hearted and she chuckled thickly.

"This is so messed up." She mumbled miserably, pulling at the threads in the blanket. "I don't know what to do. Everything's gone topsy-turvey." It was true, since when was Malfoy the good guy? Since when was she avoiding all Gryffindors except Ginny like the plague?

He forced her shoulders backwards gently. "You need to relax. I can hear your thoughts from here." He rubbed her temples soothingly. The simple action was beyond out of character.

"Why are you being so nice to me? You hate Blaise, you should be fuming." She yawned.

"Do you want me to yell at you?" He said incredulously. "I thought you did not want to be treated like a child any longer."

She huffed. "Perhaps not."

"I am fuming." He admitted. "I've decided to take a different approach."

"And what would that be?" Hermione asked, enjoying the warmth of his arms and the now-cool-enough-to-drink tea in her hands.

"Why never-ending, unequivocal, relentless torture of course." His voice was sickly sweet in her ear. She shuddered as his hand swept from her shoulder to cup the small of her waist. He shifted and she was now sitting between his legs. Every move was deliberate, it was like something had been switched in him.

"That doesn't sound-" She stuttered. "-good."

He hummed, resting his nose against the curve of her shoulder. "No, I suppose it doesn't." He left a small kiss on the underside of her jaw, it was barely there. "You betrayed my trust today Hermione." He wheedled, massaging the skin beneath his fingers above her skirt.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. "I'm- sorry." She forced out. She was trying to concentrate on the conversation but his hands were extremely distracting.

"You will show up to our lessons on time now. You will arrange to make up the time you missed today." He instructed. She could do all but nod her agreement.

"I can't control what you're up to with Zabini. I don't know what he's promised you. You were extremely foolish to get involved in this Hermione."

"I worry for your safety." He murmured in her ear, hands trailing to the buttons on her shirt and toying with them gently. "You do not take adequate precaution when dealing with dangerous _snakes_." His enunciation was crystal clear, Hermione could feel the displacement of air from each syllable. "You would do well to remember I am one of those snakes."

Hermione gasped as she felt his warm lips tracing over the bare skin of her cheek. "I- don't think you're dangerous." She whispered. Malfoy gave a short low laugh.

"You hardly know me at all. I could be capable of anything, for all you know. You don't know what I've done." He crooned, gently tracing over the burn mark on her neck. It was remarkably intimate.

"I - don't - care." Hermione exhaled unevenly. She felt Draco stiffen behind her.

"If you ever miss a lesson again, Hermione. Make no mistake, you will live to regret it." It was a restrained threat, cunningly disguised between layers of rich soothing baritone.

Then, his hands and mouth were gone, and he was pushing her firmly off the sofa. "Go, get into your pyjamas. You need rest."

Hermione protested. "But, I have an Arithmancy essay to do!" but his voice was unyielding.

"I'm not hearing a word to the contrary Granger, you look knackered."

She glowered at him but stormed off to her bedroom nonetheless. Never-ending torture indeed...

**A/N: Okay so lowkey this chapter is one of my shortest yet but I really wanted it to be its own event in its own right and I really think it's a special important moment you know. (Besides this is technically a double update so yanno, take what you can get... ;) ) Let me know what you think of these new developments in the comments! Are they still trying to push eachother away?**


	18. A Duel

The next morning came with little trouble. Draco had ignored Hermione for the remainder of the night, and she'd almost thought he wouldn't visit her in the night. Alas, his visits were a reassuring constant and he arrived like usual, clad in pale green pyjamas and sweat. Hermione found herself slightly concerned at the trepidation she felt at the thought that he might not come. She was getting rather attached to their little routine.

She was the first to wake today, an rarity, and she took several moments to observe Draco as he slept. It was strange, how she could despise someone so when they were awake, but hardly care when they slept. Her eyes flickered over the slight stubble on his jaw, a lone freckle on his cheekbone, the asymmetry of his eyebrows. He was undeniably handsome, and Hermione found herself itching to run her fingers along the length of his face, as if she could hardly believe that he was there.

Hermione was no fool, she knew her passion and hatred for the boy were linked. He had a profound effect on her. Still, she worried for his intentions. His act grew more confusing by the day, he now no-doubt knew of her suspicions, yet he was still sweet towards her. Devious, but undeniably tender. Hermione struggled to place his new-found affections in the neat little box labelled _Draco Malfoy. _It was practically overflowing with information by now. All of it was contradictory. It gave her a headache just trying to puzzle it all out.

Another box concerned her more, one she had a disturbingly little amount of information on: _Blaise Zabini_. She wondered if she'd been reckless in swearing her silence to him. It was unlikely she'd've made the same decision now, knowing what she knew. It seemed she grew more reckless by the day, she thought as she traced over Draco's hairline softly. Perhaps she wasn't so little of a _Luftmensch_ after all. She pictured Ginny's torn face in her mind and resolved to keep a closer eye on the boy. If he decided to even look out of turn, she wanted to know about it.

Draco stirred, shifting his head that currently lay soft on her pyjama-ed lap. "Mmpf. Morning Granger." She threaded her hands through his pale blonde hair, scraping her nails against his scalp gently. He groaned, not opening his eyes but lifting his hand clumsily and tapping her on the nose. "Gerroff me woman, what time is it?"

"Nearly six." She murmured. He sat up slowly, leaning back against the headboard and rubbing his eyes blearily.

"Why didn't you wake me?" He yawned.

She shrugged, still watching him through barely open eyes.

"Stop staring." He admonished. "It's-"

"-not proper, yes I know." Hermione finished for him, with a cheeky smile tilting at her lips. "I don't particularly care."

He looked up at the ceiling in frustration and then tugged at her thigh, pulling her towards him. She straddled his lap, unsureness now painted on her face. So much for not caring. He looked back up at her, rubbing his hands over her covered thighs soothingly.

Hermione looked at him with wide bright eyes, her mouth falling open slightly. She lifted her hands to rest on his shoulders, tugging a little at the collar of his nightshirt. She rubbed the cotton fabric between her fingers. A pleased smile stretched across his face. It would be so easy to reach forward and capture his lips with hers. The cerise was remarkably tempting.

He pushed her back gently with his knee and she fell forward slightly, lips now only a hairs breadth away from hers. "Never ending torture." He breathed.

"Right." She exhaled, not moving. He lifted a hand and righted her to an upright position.

"What's gotten into you today Miss Granger." His tone was light and teasing. "You're being remarkably," He paused, searching for the right word. "_pliant_."

Hermione scowled, the moment lost, pushing him lightly on the chest. "You're insufferable. Don't make fun." She was sure that she had a guilty expression on her face. She had no fealty to Draco, no loyalty. So why did she suddenly feel such culpabilty? It was horrid, like nothing Hermione had felt before.

"I'm not. Merely observing." He looked up at her seriously. "You will make up that time today. We have a Potions exam next week." His voice was firm, it was undoubtedly a command.

Hermione sighed. "Sure, I have a free period before lunch. We can do it then." She shrugged herself off him and got off the bed. "Get up, I need to make the bed." She shook a pillow at him emphatically.

He grumbled but got up nonetheless, making sure to take an age on purpose. "You could just use magic you know." He said irritably as she strained to reach the far corner of her bed.

"I'm not that incapable Draco, sometimes things are easier without magic." Hermione smoothed over the duvet, tight lump in her chest. "Now leave, I have to get dressed." She pushed him towards the door hurriedly. Perhaps if she couldn't see him then she wouldn't feel so bad.

"Fine. I'll go make tea."

* * *

Hermione met Draco in the classroom they always frequented during second period. They had just come from a particularly stressful Defense class, and it was doing nothing to help her already foul mood. Draco watched her as she stomped into her seat.

This morning had been special, different. She had smelt like peach jam. For those few precious seconds, Draco had felt like a regular boy. He could still vaguely feel the ghost of her fingertips against his scalp. He found that he did not mind it as much as he thought he might. In fact, in the back of his mind, he wanted to feel like that again.

"I figured we'd start with Skele-Gro today." She said, her voice short and angry. "Once we've gotten through the theory we can try brewing it. Turn to page 183." Draco did not move, he couldn't help the worry he felt rising in his chest. He suspected she was overexerting herself again.

"Draco! Do as I say." She snapped, flicking open her own textbook.

"What's wrong?" He asked quietly.

"Nothing." She muttered back begrudgingly. "Lets just get this over with."

Draco felt mildly irritated at that. He was not a task to be completed. He found himself caring whether or not she thought he was hard to tolerate. These lessons were still important to him. "What's that supposed to mean?" He replied, voice at a warning sharpness.

"Nothing." She repeated, her voice faltering a little. "I'm just- a bit stressed."

"Stressed?" He said incredulously. "Merlin witch, take a Calming Potion, you're practically on the ceiling." This was clearly the wrong thing to say, because she threw the book at him. He caught it deftly.

"You're such a dickhead." She said furiously, pulling out her wand. She began roughly casting hexes, firing them at him with surprising speed and velocity. He blocked them with a quick shield charm, dodging the ones he was not able to deflect. They were standing now, Hermione flinging her wand back and forth with vigor. He just stood there, sorely missing the Hermione from this morning.

"You're such a _dickhead_." She said again, more venom in her voice. "Fight back. I hate you. Fight back!" Her voice had raised to a screech.

"No." Draco replied calmly. He did not want to fight Hermione. This was the opposite of what he wanted. She was showing her hotheaded Gryffindor tendencies. They were out in full force today. "You need to calm down." He tried again. Merlin, he had no experience in dealing with overemotional witches.

This did not work, and he felt himself grow impatient. He disarmed her with a quick flick of his wand. She had not been expecting it and she howled in thinly disguised shock.

Next, like he'd predicted, she came after him full force, Muggle-style. Her small fists rained down on his chest. "I hate you. I hate you." She said over and over again. She was sobbing now, her chest heaving.

He took hold of her wrists, pulling her upwards to look at him. "You need to calm down." He pleaded. Something seemed to register in her glassy brown eyes, for her shoulders slumped and she fell against his chest.

The embrace was clumsy. Draco could feel the shoulder of his shirt getting wet from her tears. They sank to the floor.

"I don't know what to do Draco." She spoke muffledly into his shirt. "I feel so guilty about everything. I'm lying to you, lying to Ginny, lying to Harry and Ron. I can't look any of my friends in the eye. I'm trusting people I hardly know. I feel like I'm going crazy." Her voice reached a fever pitch. "I'm so sorry, but I'm not sorry. I'm in two minds about everything! I don't know what to feel." She pulled away to look at him, desperately vulnerable look on her blotchy face. "Tell me what to do."

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Well, what do you want to do?"

She sighed and then sniffled. "I have to meet Harry and Ron in Hogsmeade tomorrow. We had this idea, t-to get out of it. I don't want to see them. They're my best friends, but I can't see them. Ron-" She sighed again, rubbing her eye roughly. "I'm still extremely angry with him. I've tried to push it out of my mind, but I can't. I'm not ready."

Draco nodded. He remembered the night she'd discovered Weasley's secret with disturbing clarity. "Go on." He prompted.

"I want to talk to Seamus." She said quietly. Draco stiffened. "I know what you're going to say, but I just want to resolve it and leave it. I'm tired of the dirty looks in the corridor."

He rubbed his thumb across her palm in smooth circles. "Fine." She tried to interrupt him but he bit out the last of his sentence over the top of her. "Don't make me regret it Granger."

He continued. "You need to find more healthy ways to deal with your stress Granger. This is the second time you've had a meltdown in as many months. I know you're letting schoolwork get on top of you again."

She began crying softly again into his jumper. "How do I know I can trust you?" It was a rare moment of vulnerability for the slight Gryffindor. Draco felt an unrecognisable force pull at his intestines. Clearly whatever she'd spoken to Zabini about had wormed its way well into her brain.

"You can't." He began, a little unsteadily. "I am not a good person Hermione, you know this."

She pulled away from his shirt again, meeting his eyes with her sad earnest ones. "You're good to me."

He made a funny noise in the back of his throat, like a choking-cough.

"I don't think I can trust you, not completely." Draco was fixated by her honest expression and solemn words. "But I think I can trust you not to hurt me. You've proven that enough."

Draco scarcely dared to breathe.

"I think that's enough for me." She whispered, and then she was meeting his lips in a damp kiss. She was soft and gentle and warm and Draco felt like his heart was on the ceiling. It felt poignant, like nothing Draco had ever felt before. He swept her close, longing to feel her soft skin on his, propriety be damned.

"I'm sorry, for everything." She managed, wry smile quirking the edge of her lips.

"Don't you dare be sorry." He said all at once, and then he was kissing her again. They got lost in the kiss, and eachother, sitting on the cold hard floor of the empty classroom. For once, Draco felt truly happy. She still smelt like peach jam.

**A/N: ayyyyyyyy. This chapter was a right pain to write, it took me nearly five hours to get it right lmao. Hopefully this should lead to some more resolutions of conflict and less angry angsting inside of Hermione's brain. I get stressed out just writing it lol. She's had a lot to deal with, our Hermione. Please leave reviews! Love, BJ x**


	19. A Fainting Fancy

Hermione sat in the Three Broomsticks, waiting for Ginny, who had gone to collect the boys from the nearest apparition point. She twisted her wiry hair nervously around her fingers. She'd decided to put a little more effort into her appearance today, perhaps from apprehension, and the majority of her hair lay piled on the top of her hair in a messy sort-of bird nest way. Hermione had long given up on the Sleek-eazy Potion, there was no time for such dalliances.

She'd dressed in her best black cloak, (the warm one this time, there was no Malfoy this morning to mix it up) and she wore a handknitted beige bobble hat and scarf, a set that had been slyly returned to her from the kitchens a few weeks after the start of term. Whenever the door to the Three Broomsticks would open the bell above it would give a loud chime, and it made Hermione twitch every time she heard it.

The pub was fairly busy, full of festive shoppers eager to warm up from the relentless snow the Scottish Highlands had been plagued with for the last month. Hermione wasn't feeling particularly in the Holiday Spirit this year, but she still enjoyed seeing the efforts to which the many patrons of Hogsmeade went to in order to celebrate Christmas. Even now, after their tiny village had been decimated by the war, they trudged bravely on. Each window was decked with dark green holly and glistening red berries, every doorway hung with masses of golden tinsel and tiny dancing balls of light were enchanted to float around the room and fill it with shimmering yellow light. She could hear the distant sound of determined carolers over the noisy pub. Rosmerta had put up a gigantic Christmas tree in the center of the room, bedecked with bright red baubles and masses of charmed candles. A fire hazard really, but very pretty to look at.

In a similar Christmas-themed vein, Hermione still had a theme for the Wintertide Dance to decide. It was something she had vehemently objected against, but McGonagall had insisted. Well, Professor Dumbledore had insisted. Even from the grave his portrait still meddled in school affairs. It was quite endearing, really. Ever since Fourth Year Yule, Hermione hated balls. They reminded her of Ron. There had hardly been time for any since, so she'd had no chance to make any better memories from them. They were a wholly unnecessary and time consuming affair to her.

She stared at the charts she'd laid on the bar in front of her. Deciding on a theme was quite a simple choice really, though she doubted Zacharias Smith and several other more difficult Prefects would simply accept her ideas. She would have to call another meeting soon. Sometimes she strongly wished Harry had not decided to become an Auror a year early and would be here to share the burden of twenty four annoyingly headstrong Prefects with her.

She heard his rough Devonshire accent before she saw them, heard the tinkle of the bell and the gasped whispers of the room's young patrons. They were quite a duo, one tall, broad, shock of orangey-brown hair on his head. The other shorter, wirier, with small round glasses and a bashful disposition. Ginny trailed slightly behind them, gripping Harry's hand tightly and determinedly, like somebody might try to wrench it from her grasp. Ginny was a confident witch, and she displayed her relationship with boyfriend with little abashment. Ever the fiery lioness.

Hermione fingered the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes packet in her pocket, downing her scalding tea quickly. Her throat burned, but it was nothing to do with the temperature. The thought of Ron's coarse words gnawed away at her, effectively dousing cold water on her initial excitement.

"Hermione, hey!" It was Ron that had spoken, and he pulled up the chair next to her as Ginny and Harry took the two opposite.

Hermione pasted a fake smile onto her face and hurriedly rolled up her parchments, away from Ron's prying eyes. "Hey guys, it's good to see you." She tried to ignore the flicker of warmth that came to her face at Ron's boyish grin. He looked older, wearier than she had last seen him, but he still had the same spatter of freckles across his face and the same bright blue eyes that Hermione loved. They were nothing like Draco's, she realised. Of course, she wasn't really sure that there was much like his, grey and complex and full of promise.

"How're things? You never replied to my letter." Said Harry. She turned to face him, feeling a little nauseous. It was true that she had not replied despite Malfoy's help. It felt so wrong to lie to her friends, or 'omit the truth' as Draco had put it. He would've laughed at her if he knew, called her a Cowardly Lion. Still, she had little choice now.

"It's been good. Busy, but good. There's nothing like Hogwarts, you know?" Harry nodded understandingly. Hogwarts had also been a place of refuge for him but from the Dursleys, his awful aunt and uncle. A flash of silvery hair caught the corner of her eye and she strained to get a better look. At the group's puzzled expression, she managed a "Haven't seen Madame Rosmerta, have you? I could do with a refill." She held up her empty teacup in explanation.

Ron blushed. "Not yet." Hermione fought an urge to roll her eyes. The silvery figure took a seat perpendicular to them in a booth. He had his back to them. What was Malfoy doing in Hogsmeade? Hermione wondered. He had nobody with him, surely he should be accompanied by escort? Not that it had bothered him before, Hermione remembered, the blood-red quill flashing through her mind. She managed a subtle jerk of her head to Ginny, who was still looking at her curiously.

"So, what's training been like? I bet it's really interesting." Hermione tried lamely. The boys immediately launched into a long and in depth description of the last few months. Hermione wasn't really listening, her gaze still fixed on the boy with his back to her. A figure joined him, clad in thick furs and a hood. She craned her neck, but it was impossible to see their face.

"-so yeah, that's what the _Minister_ told me. I bet you can't wait to graduate now 'Mione, do something useful with your time." Ron's voice broke her out of her thoughts. It was uncharacteristically boasting, and his cerulean eyes with shining with something that looked like condescension.

"Excuse me? I value my studies, thank you very much." She bristled, turning to him.

Harry coughed unsubtly. "Well, I just mean- -it's not really gonna mean something, in the _real world_, is it?" Ron's voice was rippling with uncomfortable arrogance, like he was wearing his favourite shoes but they were three sizes too big for him. He glanced over towards the other two. Ginny rested her chin on her hands, raising an eyebrow at her brother. Clearly she didn't like his tone either.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione rankled with righteous indignation.

Harry interjected quickly. "Leave it, mate. We barely see Hermione as it is. Let's not ruin it." In the midst of their spat hardly anyone had noticed the flashes of photography, or the wide eyed chatter of several students. "We're causing a scene."

"Come on guys, lets just leave. I want to go to Honeydukes to buy some Christmas presents and if we wait much longer everything good will be gone." Ginny acted as the mediator, giving a sideways glance to Hermione. It said _here's your chance, do it now_. She nodded in acquiescence, pointedly ignoring Ron's protestations. He only wanted to be here to see Madame Rosmerta anyways.

Hermione attempted to catch one final glimpse of the silver haired boy and his confidant, but both of them had disappeared out of sight. She exchanged brittle glances with Ginny. That would have to be investigated more later. She tried to ignore the insecurity she felt worming its way around her intestines. Draco had been undeniably different these past twenty-four hours, better. She wanted to believe it wasn't him, but that person was irrefutably him. Who else had hair like that?

Honeydukes was alarmingly busy, full of tiny third and fourth year clamouring for the various sweet treats. The walls were lined from floor to high ceiling with boxes, tins and bins full of brightly-coloured bonbons, toffees and chocolates. It was an overwhelming sight on the eyes, made worse by the loud students, hyper on sugar. Introvert-Hermione cringed at the sheer chaos. She frowned at a tubby Hufflepuff boy sneaking fizzing whizbees into his pocket. "Excuse me." She tapped him on the back, voice icy. "I would hope you're going to pay for those." He turned his beady eyes towards Hermione, flickering to her Head Girl badge and then back again. He at least had the nerve to look guilty.

"Sorry." He mumbled, pulling them back out of his pocket and scurrying towards the till, at least, that's where she hoped he was going. She hadn't had to dock points from Hufflepuff in ages, especially from something as serious as stealing. In fact, they might even be in the lead for the House Cup by now. Hermione grimaced. Since Harry had left Gryffindor were doing terribly, second-last only to the reduced house of Slytherin, which was hardly an achievement.

"He reminded me of Dudley." Said a disembodied voice in her ear. She jumped in fright, bumping into the display behind her and knocking several chocolate frogs off their shelf. Hermione went to raise her wand instinctively and then stopped. Old habits die hard, she guesses.

"For God's sake Harry! You scared me!" She whispered, scrambling to pick up the fallen chocolate before anyone noticed.

"Sorry, I'm getting a bit sick of all the staring." came the invisible voice.

Hermione smiled ruefully. "It does get a bit much sometimes, doesn't it?" She wondered if Ginny had told him that she hardly ever engaged with the general student body anymore.

"You can say that again, I've never gotten used to it." Harry joked, jostling her slightly as he shifted to allow some people through. It would be less than ideal to expose Harry's Invisibility Cloak to a bunch of gossipy fourteen year olds.

Hermione paid for her items, slipping the tainted sweets from her pocket and into the striped pink paper bag discretely. Ron and Ginny were waiting for them outside, arms full of various gifts and merchandise.

"Took you long enough." Ron said with a mouthful of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Hermione wrinkled her nose, he had drool coming out of the corner of his mouth. He had no manners whatsoever and before when it was endearing, now she found it utterly repulsive.

"Ever the pig Ronald." She sighed, starting to walk up to the castle. A thought popped into her brain that she was acting rather like Malfoy, who constantly reprimanded her for 'not being proper.' She dismissed it quickly, anyone would think Ronald was behaving in a disgusting manner. Not just Malfoy. Feeling heartily sick of today, Hermione reached into the bag and pulled out a small toffee, placing it in her mouth.

"I'm telling you- she needs to calm down, she's being mental." Hermione heard Ron's whining voice distantly behind her. Everything had gone rather tinny, and she felt as if she might be a million miles away. She groaned, feeling herself sway in the chilly breeze.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Came one voice. It was a girl's - Ginny, she supposed. Hermione stumbled, closing her eyes as her head span around and around.

"Granger? What's going on?" It was a different voice now, one very familiar to her, yet she couldn't quite place it. "Granger? Talk to me." Came the voice again, sounding a little more urgent, rougher.

"'M fine." Hermione mumbled, as the masculine voice directed her to a snow-covered bench. She leaned against the figure. The wool of his scarf scratched against her cheek, filling her nose with the faint scent of alcohol and smoke. That too was disturbingly familiar. Not just because this strange man smelt like the inside of a pub, but something else too. Her thoughts were slow and sluggish, so she could hardly place what was so recognisable.

"_Malfoy_?! What the fuck are you doing with Hermione? Get away from her!" Ron's outraged voice was the last thing Hermione heard before she felt the walls close in and the blackness swallow her up. She hit the ground with a soft thump, out cold.

**A/N: Finally got this chapter out. Apologies for my late upload, I'm trying not to rush things because I want to get this story really right. I can't let you lovely guys down! Hope you enjoyed :) Love - BJ X**


	20. A Karmic Intervention

Hermione woke up to the sound of muffled shouting.

_"I want to know what the HELL you think you're playing at!" _

_"You have no authority over me Weasley, don't think you can order me around."_

_"Did you slip her a potion? Curse her? That seems like something a disgusting Death Eater like you would do."_

_"Again, accusing me of things you have no idea about. Do you ever shut that infernal mouth of yours, or do you have to wait for Potter to do it for you?" _

_"Hey Harry, remember Katie Bell? I'm sure she remembers something about a curse. We could send her an owl."_

Hermione registered now that she was in the hospital wing, pinned between two very tightly made sheets. Someone had taken off her woolen outerwear, and her shoes. She flexed her neck, feeling very groggy. The hospital cot was uncomfortable and stiff against her back and she swung her legs, hopping out of the bed with quickly-regretted haste. She must've taken a Fainting Fancy, when she'd clearly intended to eat the Fever Fudge. She'd taken it from a confiscated Skiving Snackbox from Fred and George's school days and now deeply regretted it. They were hopelessly mislabelled.

She felt dazed. Malfoy and Ron were the two voices, arguing loudly outside in the hall. She padded towards the door on wobbly bare feet, fully intending to give them both a piece of her mind.

However, when the door swung open all she could manage was a quiet "Will you guys pack it in?" Hermione leant against the doorframe, absorbing their angry postures. Ron looked murderous, Draco the slightly more composed of the two. He too leant against the flagstone lazily, but his arms were crossed and the lines above his eyebrows were prominent. Harry was holding Ron by the scruff of his collar. Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

At her arrival, Draco's eyes softened imperceptibly but he did not move. "You shouldn't be out of bed." Harry said, relieved expression on his face. He offered his arm to the dizzy girl and she took it gratefully, not really caring what Ronald thought.

Ron spluttered when she ignored him. Draco sneered. "Can't help yourself, could you Granger? You just have to stick your bushy head into everything." Hermione felt a heartstring snap and she whirled back to him, her face a wild mixture of shock and hurt. She stared at him for several long hard horrible moments but did not say anything, feeling tears burn her tired eyelids.

"Eat dung, Malfoy." It was Harry who spoke, who led her back to her bed and a waiting Madame Pomfrey. He slammed the doors shut with his wand and cast a silencing charm. Hermione had never been more thankful for anything Harry had ever done in his whole life.

"You should not have gotten out of bed Miss Granger!" scolded the stern Matron. "You could've fallen and hit your head, you're very lucky you got here so quickly in the first place."

Hermione met Harry's eyes nervously. "Er, how exactly did I get here?"

Harry adjusted his collar. "Well, that's the thing. Malfoy sort-of." He paused, looking uneasily. "It was really strange actually, he cast this spell I don't know and it like -zoomed- you up to the castle." Hermione retracted her earlier statement about Harry's usefulness. He was absolutely terrible at describing things. She must've looked horror-struck, because he continued in a slight panic. "We think it was just because he was standing near you though, didn't want to be blamed for the crime and all that."

"Yes, well you can thank Mr Malfoy later." Madame Pomfrey said in an exasperated tone. "You fainted Hermione. I've ran some diagnostic tests and it's looking like extreme exhaustion and low blood sugar. I'm putting you on bedrest for at least three days, and I've sent Miss Weasley to collect some Replenishing Potions from Professor Slughorn that you will need to take hourly." She reduced her angry tone for a moment, voice turning motherly. "Headmistress McGonagall has also been informed, given your past history Miss Granger."

Hermione groaned and slapped her hand to her forehead. She'd promised Professor McGonagall that she would not let things get as bad as Third Year. She kept her promise, but she could hardly tell the Professor that it was because she ate the wrong Skiving Snackbox, could she?

Harry looked on, brow furrowing as he bit his lip. "Past history?"

The Madame looked disapprovingly at Hermione and then back at Harry, then back at Hermione again.

"When I still had my Time Turner in third year, I may have passed out a few times from exhaustion." Hermione squeaked out guiltily, staring at her knees. She could feel Harry's angry gaze on the back of her neck.

"She nearly killed herself." Madame Pomfrey clipped out. "She's been kept an eye on ever since."

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" Came Harry's frustrated voice. "We're your friends!"

"Well you were busy." She squeaked again, daring to look into his blazing green eyes. "I didn't want to bother you."

Harry huffed, pacing the room. "I'm going to see if Ron's killed Malfoy yet. I'm hoping he has." He said crossly, turning and exiting the room.

"One visitor at a time Mr Potter!"

Her next visitor was Ronald himself, looking red faced and irate. "Hi 'Mione." He grumbled, plopping himself unceremoniously into the metal chair at her bedside. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm okay." She lied. Hermione felt absolutely disgusting horrible, but she would feel a lot better if Ginny could get back to her with the 'cure' half of the Fancy. Where had she gotten too, anyways? It was taking forever.

He nodded slowly, content with her answer. "Malfoy's being a right git outside. Won't leave. Says he's staying until you can clear him of his 'crimes.'" He snorted. "I told him you'd do no such thing, obviously."

Hermione frowned. It had taken him an alarmingly quick amount of time to start ranting about Malfoy. Her chest constricted painfully at the thought of Draco's cruel words. "He didn't do anything Ron, you can lay off him."

Ron vocalised his vehement protests. "But Mione! You could get him for this! He's such a git, he definitely deserves it. The only reason he helped you is so he wouldn't get the blame for it."

"It wasn't him Ronald. You're being awfully petty considering you know that such an accusation would get Malfoy stuck back in Azkaban." Ron flushed.

"He deserves to."

"What's gotten into you? You testified for his release just like Harry and I."

"Well maybe I'm regretting it. I think I should be asking you the same thing personally." Ron said darkly, standing now, the chair screeching uncomfortably against the floor.

"You're ridiculous." Hermione replied offhandedly, feeling her head throb painfully.

"Me, ridiculous! You-"

"Mr Weasley!" Came Professor McGonagall's sharp Scottish brogue. "I'll thank you from overexerting Miss Granger's mental state of mind, if you please." She strode in imperiously, robes flourishing. Ginny hurried in after her, arms full of bottles.

"I'll be waiting outside for you Hermione." Came Ron's curt voice.

She glared at him. "No thanks. I don't want to see you any longer." This new over-confident Auror Ron was not someone she enjoyed being around. He had seemed to relish the idea of ruining Malfoy's life, and it scared her.

"But-but, Hermione!" He looked gobsmacked. Hermione could already visualise his excuses now, his wheedling. She remembered how he had hurt her and balled up her fists.

"Just get out Ronald!" She screamed, slapping her hands on her thighs.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as Ron stormed out of the room. She'd just managed to keep her cover, for now, though she was sure Ron was suspicious of something. She'd been unable to help herself defending Draco.

"One visitor at a time!" Called the voice from Madame Pomfrey's office.

Ginny gave an acknowledging wave to Hermione before scurrying off after Ron. She mouthed _Follow Malfoy_, pointing at herself. Hermione gave a subtle nod.

Professor McGonagall rested her hands on the side of Hermione's cot, mouth pressed in a thin line. "I thought we had an agreement Miss Granger." Her voice was of dismay, and it cut Hermione more than she'd like to admit. If it was anything, she hated disappointing her favourite teacher.

"I'm sorry Professor." She replied meekly.

"I want your word that it will not happen again. Properly this time, else I shall be forced to take affirmative action. You are suffering from extreme exhaustion Miss Granger, and it is no accident."

"It won't. I give you my word." Hermione bowed her head, wishing that she'd never eaten the god-forsaken fudge.

"I know how much being Head Girl means to you Hermione, I would hate to take that away from you. This is your last chance." She twisted the covers in her hands. A nervous habit. Hermione did not enjoy being subjected to her ire.

"I'm sorry." She said, hoping the altercation would end soon. She still felt dreadfully ill and needed to see Ginny as soon as possible, her head was swimming.

"I'll have your teachers send you the work you'll miss on Monday." McGonagall finished finally. "Try not to overexert yourself in the meantime. Many people care about your wellbeing a great deal. I know Mr Malfoy was most anxious to see if you were alright." Her mouth tilted up in a rare knowing smile. Hermione fought the urge to sink into her mattress and never come out of it again.

"Thank you Professor." She mumbled as Ginny approached the bed. She had pulled parchment out of her bag and was scribbling on it, attempting to lean on her knees and walk at the same time.

**Malfoy is eavesdropping from behind the door. He's still outside and won't leave until he sees you. **

**(I tried to follow him, but there's no bloody point. He isn't going anywhere yet.)**

**Harry and Ron have gone home. They're both really angry for some unknown reason.**

**Love you.**

Hermione rolled her eyes and scowled. What a git. Ginny passed the parchment to her and she began to write, blinking a few times to clear her head.

**Git. Do you have any cures for Fainting Fancy? My head is killing me.**

**Love you too.**

Ginny frowned and shook her pretty red hair, mouthing _Sorry_. Hermione slumped back into her bed in pure defeat. Today was going quite possibly as worse as it could go. Perhaps it was some kind of karmic intervention for kissing Draco so many times.

**I'll catch you up as soon as Malfoy's gone.**

**Can you tell him to come in?**

Ginny, ever the one for subtlety called loudly. "You can come in now Ferret Face." The door creaked and Malfoy walked sulkily in. He looked flapped. His hair was mussed and messy, one sleeve rolled up this elbow and the other undone, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. Hermione took great delight in the unflappable being quite flappable.

Ginny folded the parchment into a neat square and skipped out of the room, glaring at Malfoy as he walked past her.

He sat in the same seat Ron had and leaned his elbows against the cot. "You look like shit." He said bluntly. He threaded his long fingers together and looked up at her.

Hermione spluttered, cool demeanor forgotten. "I _feel_ like shit." She admitted in the end. Unlike Ron he would notice if she lied to him.

"What happened?" Draco tried, sympathetic affect toning his voice. "I sent you up here, after you fainted. Weasley nearly tore my arm off in the process though. They won't tell me what's wrong with you." He tried to reach for her hand and she snapped it out of his reach, cradling it to her chest.

"What's it to you?" She retorted, feeling the brusque words from earlier wash over her again.

He sighed, leaning back on his chair. "Come on Granger, you can't possibly be mad at me for that. What was I supposed to do? Tell Weasley I was pissed that he had his hands all over my witch?" Hermione tried to ignore the flutter in her heart at the phrase _my witch_.

"You didn't have to insult me!" She exclaimed, anxious ire prevailing over her spinning vision.

"Yeah sure, because normally we're so cordial to each other." He tilted his chin. "It was the logical choice. You know I didn't mean it."

She sniffed, drawing her knees to her temples. "You were cruel." But the fight was already lost. Malfoy had won this round, yet again, too easily. She did not want Harry or Ron to know their secret just as much as he did.

"A necessary evil." He dismissed, reaching for her hand again. She let him take it this time, if albeit reluctantly. "Now tell me what Madame Pomfrey said."

Hermione filled him in on the past few minutes, choosing not to miss out the truthful parts about her planned fainting attack and then the rather unfortunate consequences.

"So you're stuck fainting until these sweets wear off?" He said incredulously, moving forward to perch on the edge of her bed.

"That's it." She said wearily. He murmured something that sounded like _insufferable woman. _Hermione gave him a black look.

"I'm hoping to go back to lessons on Monday if Professor McGonagall will let me. I can't afford to miss much." She didn't care much for his taunting, especially when she'd nearly caught him today.

Draco looked scandalised. "Absolutely no way. I won't allow it. You may not have passed out from exhaustion this time but you've come close multiple times before. You can't risk it, not in your state."

Her metaphorical hackles rose, but she was too tired to do much more than say. "You don't _allow_ me to do anything Malfoy, don't be ignorant." She yawned, snuggling into the blanket. The events of today had left her barely awake, arguing with the boys had left her drained even more so. She looked into Malfoy's soft grey eyes and found more comfort there than she'd ever expected. He was still a giant prat, but perhaps today wasn't all bad.

"Yeah right okay. I believe you." He replied sarcastically. She was already half on the way to sleep, exhaustion pulling at her toes, but she still heard Draco talking under his breath. "I'll take care of you Hermione. Don't you worry."

She smiled, her eyes closed. "I believe you Draco." She whispered back. The hand that had been stroking her hair stilled, and she was fast asleep.

**A/N: Everyone say woo hoo double update. (woo hoo double update) Hope you enjoyed, I adore concerned Draco. It's still too hot to move here, wish me luck.**


	21. A Cryptic Warning and A Pillow Fight

Draco stayed with Hermione all night. He paused only to glare at the smallest Weasley when she brought a tray of food up from the feast. He didn't wake the sleeping girl but feasted on the platter of sandwiches, fruit and muffins nonetheless. Weasley appeared to want to stay, and he'd reluctantly transfigured a pillow into an armchair for her. She didn't seem to much mind his presence, so he supposed she'd figured out their affections for each other by now. They weren't exactly discrete. He didn't care what she thought of him, nor what the rest of the school thought, but it would be a lot easier to skate by unnoticed. Draco despised gossiping.

He watched Hermione. Her hair fanned out like a halo around her head, eyes closed and peaceful expression painted on her pale face. It was disturbing how still she lay, and Draco felt fearful that perhaps she would never wake. Still, he would stay with her until she did. It wasn't like he could sleep without her, anyways.

The tiny witch had given him the fright of his life when she'd fainted in the middle of Hogsmeade. He'd never remembered that feeling of pure terror in the pit of his stomach from anything a mere girl could conjure. That sort of feeling was reserved for more important fears, such as Lord Voldemort. and Draco's Mother. If he closed his eyes he could still hear the sound of her falling to the floor, muffled by the thick carpet of snow. He thanked Salazar that it was only self-induced, though he could hardly commend her decision. She was reckless and foolish, just like all Gryffindors.

"Thank you, for what you did for her." Came Weasley's croaky voice through the darkness. "If she'd hit her head. Well, who knows what could've happened."

Draco grumbled, arms holding his knees tight to his chest and his chin leaning on them. "'S'nothing." He didn't really feel like having a heart to heart with a Weasley right now. Hermione was an obvious exception to his no-Gryffindor rule.

He heard her clothes rustle as she leant forwards, red hair lit only by the moonlight streaming through the windows. She gave him a meaningful look. "It's not nothing Malfoy. I _know_."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hermione won't tell me everything, I know she's holding some things back, but I know. I know how much you care for her. I can see it when you look at her, in the way you act around her." Draco wasn't sure whether he felt sick from being so emotionally stripped down, or whether it was just because it was coming from someone he thought he hated. "You can't push her away. That's not Hermione. You can't try to control her either, she won't thank you for that. I know we hate each other and take the piss, but take it from me. I don't understand your relationship in the slightest, I really don't. But if Hermione wants to be with you then I respect her choice. Just know, if you lay a hand on her I won't hesitate to curse you." She paused, reaching her hand out to lay it on the arm of Draco's chair. He flinched at the sign of familiarity.

"If you're doing anything untowards, anything you shouldn't. You need to stop it. Now." It was a cryptic warning, one that made Draco pause in his internal angsting. What did Weasley know? Defensive protocol made him instinctively clam up and double down on his Occlumency shields. It was a paranoid habit, but one that came in very useful when Lord Voldemort had lived at your house.

"What does that mean?" He asked gruffly.

"Just don't do anything you'll regret." Were her final puzzling words. She yawned. "Right, I need to get to bed before Professor McGonagall shoots me. Give Hermione my love."

He saw the shadowy outline of a curvy figure walk away towards the door. Feeling more than a little flummoxed, he turned his gaze back to Hermione. She still hadn't moved, but the soft risings and fallings of her chest comforted him more than he saw fit to acknowledge, and soon he too was drifting off to sleep.

* * *

When Hermione woke it was still dark and her back was aching. She'd fallen asleep in a seated posture, and her vertebrae were protesting heavily. A mop of white blonde hair rested against her leg and she suppressed a small smile. He was fast asleep.

Madame Pomfrey bustled towards her. "It's only 4:30 in the morning Miss Granger. Take this potion and then go back to sleep. You're free to return to your dorms when you feel fully able." She fixed a stern look onto the sleepy girl. "But you must rest. I've warned Mr Malfoy here to keep any eye on you, given he lives with you." She held out a silver goblet filled with ruby red liquid and Hermione took it gratefully.

She drank it in one, throwing her head back. It tasted repulsive, like a warm mixture of grass and soggy earth. She was familiar with the taste from past exhaustive episodes but it got no easier. She felt a warm burst of energy spread from tip to toe and settled back into the covers, just a little better. "Thank you Madame Pomfrey." She smiled at the matron, who turned back to her work.

"Go back to sleep." She intoned sternly. Hermione only nodded.

Draco stirred next to her, grousing under his breath. She reached down to fondly trace her fingernails over the place where his hairline met the back of his neck and he groaned quietly in response.

"Howd'youfeel?" He mumbled, not lifting his head.

"I'm fine, just took another potion." She replied softly. "How come you stayed? I wouldn't've minded if you went back for the night."

He lifted his head, clumsily smiling his too-big smile with half-shut eyes. "Couldn't leave my best girl now could I?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed his shoulder with her foot. "That's so cheesy." But a smile was pushing at her own mouth and she could do little to stop it. It was nice, these quiet shared moments between the pair. They shared a natural familiarity that Hermione had never felt with anyone before.

He rubbed his eyes blearily, conjuring a glass of water for himself. He took a sip and leant back in his chair, still smiling at her. "Weasley came to visit."

Hermione felt astounded. "Ron came to visit me? Why? Where is he now?"

The smile vanished from his pale face. "No, it wasn't him." He clarified. "Ginny, she brought the food." He gestured to the silver platter filled with half-eaten sandwiches. Hermione amused herself with the fact Draco had spat out Ginny's given name like it physically pained him, but counted it as progress nonetheless. "She said to- give you her love." He wrinkled his nose like he had said something very unpleasant and Hermione let out a barely restrained giggle. He scoffed and threw a pillow at her head.

"Good to see you're feeling better." He mocked. "At least we know you're not _completely_ brain damaged."

Hermione's mouth opened and she threw the pillow back at him. "Completely brain damaged? You're one to talk Draco Malfoy!" Her voice raised to a mirthful shout, eyes glittering with challenge.

"Oh is that so?" He smirked back, both of them raising pillows in anticipation. Draco was the first to strike, whacking her over the head with the downy pillow. She let out a bright squeal and beat him with her own pillow, both dissolving in peals of laughter.

"Mr Malfoy! Miss Granger! That is hardly appropriate." Madame Pomfrey's severe face peered around the office door. They broke apart, panting. Their giggles subsided and Hermione felt the warm ache of laughter fade in her belly.

"Apologies Madame Pomfrey." Draco bowed his head in mock-penance. As soon as she'd retreated they both erupted into silent laughter again. Hermione held her sides until they hurt.

"Come on, we need to get you back to the dorms before you pass out again." Draco had sobered up, and was looking at her grimly.

"Really? It's only 5 o'clock." Draco was gathering his things.

"It'll be better this way, less people to stare at you." He said hurriedly with his back turned to her. Hermione couldn't help but feel a little deflated. She felt there was an _and me_ tacked onto the end of the sentence that he'd conveniently missed out.

"Right." She slid out of bed with still-bare feet.

They began the long walk back to the common room with thinly veiled awkward silence. Hermione was still on her comedown from the potion and had begun to feel more fatigued. She stopped to lean against the stone stair bannister and immediately Draco was upon her, inspecting her like an over-eager owl.

"What's wrong?" He demanded, peering into her eyes suspiciously.

She sighed. "Nothing, I'm just getting a bit tired, that's all." He gave her a skeptical look but offered her his arm begrudgingly.

"Come on, we're nearly there." Hermione took it, feeling a little better to be resting on Draco, and it wasn't just because he was warm and firm and felt like safety.

"I gather you didn't tell Weasley or Potter anything, then." He was whispering. Many of the portraits were still asleep and the ones that weren't were gaping at them curiously. Hermione did her best to shield herself from their gaze. They liked to gossip.

"No." She said ruefully. "Ron was much too busy talking about himself to get a word in edgewise." Draco's resounding chuckle made her feel a little guilty about her harsh words towards her friend and she stumbled.

Draco caught her with quick reflexes and set her down on the stone carefully. "I'm fine, I just tripped." She said before he could get another concerned look in. Hermione detested being fussed over. "I'm fine! Stop looking at me like that."

She got up quickly and continued trudging up the stairs, blatantly ignoring his anxious staring.

"I don't know what I'll do, to be honest." She said, swaying slightly under the harsh light from Draco's wand. "I hate being dishonest."

"What would you tell them?" His voice was quiet from behind her. Hermione could feel his warmth radiating on her back. Hogwarts was freezing at this time of year, especially with the snow. She could see her breath in front of her most nights. Yet even now he kept close to her, nervous she was going to fall over no doubt. Hermione felt a small smile quirk at her lips. Maybe it was alright to be fussed over, just a little.

"I don't know. Not everything. I've not even told Ginny and I think she would be more accepting. It'd be nice not to have you constantly at each other's throats though."

"You can't expect me to suddenly be all pally-pally with them Granger. It's hardly fair. I loathe Potter or Weasley and you know why. They take any opportunity to curse me or blame me for anything dark that goes on in the castle." His voice took on a defensive tone and Hermione turned around to face him. She laid her hands on his chest and smoothed over his robes. The high step meant that she was almost reaching his tall stature.

"Hey, you don't have to worry." She whispered soothingly. "It'll be okay. We'll figure something out." She could see his worried expression through the wand light and for once she did not suppress her urge to comfort him in public. "We have time to figure something out."

"I know you'd pick them over me if they asked you to Granger. Don't try to deny it. Lets just not go there." He cupped his hands around her waist, sounding bitter and overcome with defeatism. "Please Hermione."

Hermione felt overwhelmed, seeing stars that were not the good kind. Still, the vulnerable expression on Malfoy's face was rare, and she felt overcome with the need to help him. She rested her forehead on his, their noses barely touching. "We have time." Was all she could whisper, though she felt in her heart like they were on borrowed time. It was stirring vague panic in her stomach. He closed his eyes.

"I just want to stay like this, in our bubble. Just for a little bit longer." He murmured.

She nodded, staring into his now-open eyes. They were incandescent in the wand light, bright shimmering molten silver. Hermione felt the world spinning but ignored it, content to stay in this moment forever if she could only hold Draco's eyes for one more second. It was a desperate sort of notion and he too stared back at her, their breath releasing in hot little puffs into the cold castle air. It was beginning to get light now, and the dusky haze that settled over everything illuminated the back of Draco's platinum head like a halo. She was entranced, frozen to do anything but stay in their bubble. She still felt his hands, warm against her waist.

The world was spinning, spinning and spinning. She felt the stairs open up and swallow her whole, then she was falling, falling and falling. She felt the world lurch, as if everything had all been displaced 180 degrees off its axis. She heard Draco's worried shout from one thousand miles away, felt him catch her. Then the darkness swallowed her up.

**A/N: Woohoo more chapters. This one's slightly more fluffy with less action. Poor Hermione :( Our girl can't catch a break. Hope you enjoyed! Please leave any criticism or predictions in the review section! They make me very happy + motivated to write. Thank you to all my lovely regular reviewers, you're the best. All my love - BJ X**


	22. A Bathtub Confession

When Hermione regained consciousness she found herself in an unfamiliar room. The curtains had been hurriedly shut so sunlight still streamed through gaps and filled the room with a patchy glow. The bedsheets smelt like clean washing powder and nothing else, as if they had been freshly washed. Indeed everything in this room seemed to be newly cleaned and pressed. Even the dark cherry wood desk gleamed with polish.

Her clothes were unfamiliar too, a big baggy cotton nightdress, embroidered with soft little blue cornflowers around the bodice. Her hair was left untouched, and it lay in a big knotty tangle somewhere around her mid-back. She realised now that she was in Draco's room, Hermione had been here once before. She took a moment to ease back into the covers, relishing in the comforting scent she'd begun associate with him and only him.

Wait. If she'd slept in Draco's rooms, where had he slept? And who had undressed her? She cringed at the thought of Draco seeing her naked without her consent. Questions began to pile up, so despite her apprehension she swung her feet out of the bed and padded out of bed. She noted with a fond smile that her slippers were resting by the foot of the bed.

Draco was in the kitchen, making tea. Piles of ruby red vials rested on the countertop next to him. Those were the familiar Replenishing Potions that she would have to force down. He had his back to her and clearly hadn't heard her footsteps. Hermione took a moment to appreciate his form. He was tall and lithe, wearing fitted black pinstripe suit trousers and a silken sage-green shirt. Hermione had thought she'd hate his neurotypical Slytherin clothing choices but it only served to emphasize his porcelain skin and casual good looks. She blushed.

"Good morning." Her voice was faint, a little hoarse from hours of disuse. To his credit, he did not flinch.

"Morning Granger. Well, it's more like afternoon now." He spoke in his usual velvety baritone, a tinge of humour coating his words.

She flushed again as he handed her a crystal vial. She uncorked it and gulped it down hastily. He picked up his cup of coffee and rested against the edge of the countertop.

"Do you always have to dress so formally?" The word-vomit came out before she could help it. Dang it, she was supposed to be staying focused.

His eyes glinted with mirth. "Not always, you've seen me in my pyjamas." He gestured with his mug.

Hermione didn't think she could get much redder. "Speaking of pyjamas, how did I get into" she motioned towards her dress, wrinkling her nose. "this monstrosity."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry Granger, I haven't defiled your innocence. I transfigured your uniform while it still was on you."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth like a fish. "You can do that?" His mouth twitched into a slight smile. "Why did you choose something so ghastly?"

"It's practically a Pureblood rite of passage Granger. I'm surprised you can't do it, given your gumption for proving everyone Pureblood inferior. As for the fashion choice, well I'm afraid my mothers nightclothes were the first thing that came to mind. I regret to inform you that I was in a bit of a tizzy after your fainting attack." His voice was oddly formal at this admission of feeling.

Hermione stared at her nightdress in wonder. "So this is what _the_ Narcissa Malfoy wears to bed." He scowled, slamming the mug down on the table.

"I don't want to talk about my Mother." Hermione had the wherewithall to shut her mouth. She shuffled awkwardly, taking her feet out of her slippers and back in them again.

"How are you feeling?" He asked finally.

"Better." Hermione admitted, meeting his light grey eyes. "Much better." He hummed in satisfaction, tapping his fingers on his recently retrieved coffee.

"By the way Granger, I wasn't sure of the best way to inform you of this but Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom are currently sitting in our common room." He remarked dryly, clearly taking great merriment from her scandalised expression.

"Why didn't you tell me they were here already? Did they see you? How long have they been here?" She gasped, pulling her nightgown tighter around her. She attempted to peer around the door. True to his word, the two boys' heads were visible from atop the sofa. Hermione noticed now he had prepared three mugs of coffee and not just one. Merlin, her observation skills were really going down the toilet.

He smirked. "Yes, I'm the one who fetched them. You said you wanted to talk to them so I figured this would be the best way."

"Give me that." She yanked the extra cups from his hands. "And stay here. I'm going to go talk to them. Don't even think about getting involved." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Ever the vitriol Granger. I'll be right here." Hermione just shook her head, pulling her trembling self together and walking into the common room. She got the two boys' attention almost immediately, and their heads snapped around to see her.

"Hi Neville, Seamus." She said awkwardly, putting the coffee on the table with a clunk. Both were wearing casual clothes, Neville had a Gryffindor scarf slung clumsily around his neck and Seamus was wearing big baggy jeans.

"Hi Hermione, we heard about what happened at Hogsmeade. How are you feeling?" Neville's voice was a little high and strained but he spoke with genuine concern and Hermione's nerves settled.

"I'm okay, it was really nothing. Madame Pomfrey just wanted to keep me overnight as a precaution." Neville elbowed Seamus indiscreetly.

"Yeah, I heard too. Glad you're okay." He wouldn't meet her eyes.

Hermione sat on the edge of the sofa. "Look, I asked Malfoy to bring you here because I'm not supposed to get out of bed. I need to apologise to you for my behaviour." She was lying through her teeth but she couldn't risk them knowing about her and Draco. She took a deep breath, looking solidly at Seamus's averted eyes."The way I've behaved, ignoring you guys. Everything with you Seamus. It was immature and unacceptable and I'm sorry. I didn't know how to handle everything that was going on." That was a part truth, dealing with Draco's irrational behaviour was hard to handle. "I hope you guys can forgive me."

Nobody said anything for several long moments but it was Seamus who finally spoke. "I didn't know you were living with Malfoy." He finally met her eyes and Hermione's filled with relieved tears. "If I'd've known. Well. I think anyone would go crazy living with a guy like that. I would've been more understanding of what you were going through."

"Well, it's really not that bad now." She hurried to defend Draco. It wasn't right to pin all the blame on him after all.

"Yeah I don't know what McGonagall was thinking with that one 'Mione. It's unfair on you." Neville chimed in.

"No really, it's fin-"

"I thought I felt my ears burning." A confident voice strolled out from the kitchen. "Having a nice little rant about Granger's horrible roommate are we?"

Hermione cringed. "It's really nothing." She fixed meaningful eyes on him, ones that hopefully said _I told you to stay in the kitchen, asshole. _He perched on the arm of the sofa, reclining in an oddly possessive way. One that claimed ownership of the entire room. She gulped.

"By all means, continue." Neville looked even more strained, and Seamus's eye was twitching.

"Well anyways, as I was saying. I think it's hardly appropriate that a War Hero is rooming with a convicted Death Eater. It really makes no sense." Seamus's tone was hard, and they glared at eachother.

"ex-Death Eater." He ground out. Hermione felt dread pooling in her empty stomach.

"Now, boys. There's really no need." She tried.

"No difference in my opinion. You've always been a giant git." Seamus spat. "You're a git, and a bully. I don't know how Hermione puts up with you."

Draco, ever the picture of icy wrath sat a little straighter and kept his tone even. "I believe thats none of your business. Though, if we're on the topic of giant gits, I believe you have the honour of being one of the biggest I've ever had the misfortune to encounter."

Seamus sprang up at that. "What's that supposed to mean Malfoy?" He exclaimed furiously. Draco only smirked, still a vision of composure. Hermione felt the dread in her stomach freeze into pure terror. He was poised, waiting to strike.

"Well, if I'd recently attempted to get a girl drunk in a poorly-disguised plot to molest her at the bidding of one of her best friends, I'd be a little less obvious about it."

Seamus started towards Malfoy practically frothing at the mouth but Draco was quicker. He leaped to his feet, coming nose to nose with the angry Irish boy. Well, it was more like chin to nose. Seamus was considerably shorter than Draco. He had his wand out and pointed at Seamus's chest.

"Draco no!" Hermione scrambled to her feet. Neville did the same. "You can't curse him! You know what will happen." She attempted to pull his arm away but he shrugged her off.

"I've already got just cause Finnegan, it would be so easy." Draco's voice was low and dangerous. "You are scum. Half blood scum."

Neville looped his arms around Seamus's middle and pulled him back before he could leap on Draco. He was struggling with Seamus's stout frame as he struggled against him.

"Sea, man, Sea. Chill out. Leave it mate." He squawked.

Hermione rested a hand on Draco's stiff arm again. "Draco, come on. Leave him." She did her best to wrangle in front of him , so she could look him in the eyes. They were fierier than she'd ever seen them. "He's not worth what it would cost." She rubbed her hands against his bicep soothingly and it seemed to calm him, because he finally directed his angry gaze towards her. It softened.

"I'm leaving." He announced, striding towards the door.

Before Hermione could stop him her attention was directed elsewhere. Seamus and Neville were currently scuffling on the floor. Neville had knocked his face against the sharp edge of the table and it was bleeding. Seamus was still fighting to get out of Neville's clam-like grip.

"Boys! Stop it." She snapped, finally finding her voice. "He's gone. You're ridiculous."

They both rose, looking a bit worse for wear. She healed them both reluctantly, waving her wand across Neville's bleeding eyebrow. "Honestly!" Was the final thing she scoffed before she'd pushed them both out of the portrait. She'd had more than enough of stupid boys for a lifetime.

* * *

When Draco finally returned to the common room he was soaking wet and shivering. It was dark outside and Hermione had been doing her best to distract herself via her charms textbook. She'd wanted to go out to look for Draco but she'd barely gotten past the door before she'd felt overwhelmingly sick and dizzy.

Still she rushed to his side as he stumbled numbly into the room. "What the hell Draco? Why are you so wet? Where have you been?"

"Went for a walk." He said shortly, doing nothing to resist Hermione removing his sodden silken shirt.

"God, you're freezing! What happened?" She started pulling him towards the bathroom, voice tinged with worry.

"In the snow." Was all he said. "Meant to bring my broom but, forgot." Hermione felt a lump come to her throat at his words, devoid of any emotion. She huffed, turning the ornate silver taps on the edge of the bathtub.

"Well there's no use for that now. You'll have to warm up as soon as possible." She poured some soap into the tub, warming the water with her wand. When it had filled, she turned to face him. "I'm not taking your trousers off." She said firmly, blush rising in her cheeks. "You can keep your boxers on for now, I won't look. I need to stay with you in case you get thermal shock."

He chuckled hollowly. "Right." He unbuttoned his trousers and Hermione did her best to look away, still feeling the heat in her cheeks. This was hardly the time to get bashful. She perched on the edge of the tub as he slid in, still shaking. He breathed a sigh of relief as she quickly summoned some hot cocoa from the kitchen.

"Better?" She asked, anxiety still staining at her words. He took another long exhale, mask firmly back in place.

"I'm fine Granger." His voice was barely stable.

"What happened? Don't tell me you just went for a walk. That doesn't explain how you got covered in snow." She rested a hand on his bare shoulder, massaging the wet skin she felt there.

"I uh, sat down for a bit of a think. I needed some time to think." He wrung his hands. Hermione felt tears slip down her face for the second time today. He looked so vulnerable, so conflicted. She felt her heart practically break in two from sheer empathy for him. "Sometimes, I get overwhelmed when people bring up the war. The stuff I've seen. The stuff I've done." He looked up at Hermione, revulsion painting his features, his voice cracked. "I'm not a good person Hermione."

She dropped down onto her knees, clutching his wet hands in hers. Water droplets splashed across her and up the wall but she found she didn't really care. "Oh Draco. You aren't a bad person. I know it. You can be a good person. You can change, you've already started to change. I've seen it. I know it's true." She spoke earnestly, salty tears still pouring down her face. He stared at her with an open mouth and trembling lip.

"How can you tell?" He whispered. Hermione could've sworn she saw tears glinting at his own eyes.

"I just know. When it comes to you, I just know. The Dark Mark doesn't define you Draco Malfoy." She whispered tearfully back. Hermione saw his shoulders slump and he met her in a soggy embrace. His chest shook against her shoulders as they hugged, in this moment not Slytherin or Gryffindor, Pureblood and Muggleborn, but two souls torn aport by the horrors of war, the atrocities they had both fought against in their own right. Hermione felt her heart that had cracked into several million pieces by the tragedies she had endured begin to mend, slowly but surely, in the arms of the sobbing Slytherin.

**A/N: So it took me two days to finish this chapter and I strongly dislike all of my writing in this but hopefully it's not too terrible and it's slightly comprehensible and makes sense. Love u all, I'm thankful for every reader - BJ x**


	23. A Silver Menu

The next week was hectic for the two students. Hermione spent every waking moment in the library, desperately studying for her January exams. They weren't official NEWT exams, but when had she ever taken any exams lightly? They were bound to be worth for something. When she wasn't revising she was trying to fit in time to plan the Wintertide Dance. Whenever she tried to schedule a Prefect Meeting Ginny and the rest of the Quidditch Players would immediately kick up a stink about clashes with practice. Attempting democracy was difficult, and Hermione had mind to do away with the concept entirely.

Draco had not been at Hogwarts in four days. He'd been called away to his Mother on urgent business in the dead of night on Monday. Hermione wouldn't have even noticed him leave had he not been sleeping beside her. She found she rather missed his quiet warmth and sly company. She wished that she knew where he had gone, or how to help him. Malfoy Manor had been given to the Ministry as part of the reparations from the War, so she could hardly owl him. She shuddered at the thought of that dreadful place. Perhaps it was for the best that it was now under the jursidiction of the kindly Minister. She couldn't help but feel like this mysterious disappearance had something to do with his strange activities this term.

Hermione frowned at her piles of parchment. Really, it should've been no effort at all to plan this stupid dance, but it was proving itself to be more than difficult. Not just Zacharias Smith, but scores of regular students were approaching her on a day to day basis demanding to be -in the know- about the latest plans. At most, she'd been able to inform them of the masquerade theme. It was cliche, but Professor Dumbledore had clapped his hands in delight when she'd presented the idea to the Heads Office. Who was she to argue with a nearly two-hundred year old warlock.

She'd been in meetings with Professor Flitwick the past week discussing the propensities of charmed baubles and Hermione was pleased to finally say that the rest of the decorations were finished. Now all there was to do was examine the menu that the House Elves had recommended.

"Bingley?" She called into the quiet of her common room. She felt guilty about summoning the elf, but he'd insisted that it was the best course of action when she was ready to discuss the plans. There was a loud pop, and Bingley deftly apparated into the room.

"You called Miss Hermione?" He wiped some sweat from his brow. That is, if House Elves could really be considered to have eyebrows. She wasn't entirely too sure.

"Yes Bingley, do you think we could discuss the plans for the Wintertide Dance? I believe Professor McGonagall said you had several menus prepared." Hermione said all of this in a very polite tone, still overcompensating for her summons.

"Ah yes. Bingley is having several ideas Miss. We is thinking of a fixed menu, and not a feast. It is after all, Christmas Eve." He looked shyly up at her. "I should go and fetch Wilkie Miss, he is our head chef." Hermione nodded her assent and less than three seconds later the stout House Elf was there.

"Miss Hermione. Bingley tells me you is wanting a copy of our food list for the Wintertide Dance." He bowed low and Hermione blushed. She was still not entirely happy with the House Elves endless bowing and scraping.

"Yes please Wilkie, it is of course really up to you what you choose to prepare, but I would like the opportunity to offer some suggestions as well. on behalf of the students here." He handed her a long silver scroll of parchment with dark blue handwriting printed carefully on one side, which she took gratefully.

**Wintertide Dance Evening Meal - A La Carte**

_**Les Petits Plats:**_

**Duck and Chicken Rillets**

**Prawn Biscay with Chilli and Garlic**

**Sauteed Garlic Mushroom Toast**

_**Les Plats Principaux :**_

**Aubergine Gratin**

**Duck Confit**

**Salmon Nicoise**

**Lamb Gigot Pie**

_**Dessert:**_

**Almond and Apricot Pudding**

**Tarte au Citron**

**Creme Brulee**

Hermione scanned over the list quickly. "It all seems very. _French_." She said carefully.

Wilkie bowed his head. "We received details of your theme last week Miss. If you is liking it, we think that it will fit your theme very well Miss." Hermione's eyes scanned critically over the menu once more. A French masquerade ball. It was a stroke of genius really, and would fit cohesively with her theme very well. "Of course, the usual Christmas Dinner shall still be served the next day." Wilkie added, as if he was worried that she would forget.

"You're a genius Wilkie! That sounds amazing." The portly House Elf turned red from tip to toe, and when he bowed again his long nose nearly brushed the floor.

"Wilkie is thanking you Miss Hermione, on behalf of all of the House Elves."

"I do have one small request." Hermione said, thinking quickly on her feet. "For dessert, do you think you could add a chocolate gateaux to the menu?" She felt herself sink a little into the sofa at Wilkie's knowing stare. Why was it that House Elves seemed to know everything?

Finally, he chirped. "Of course Missy, they are not difficult to make." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, I think that's everything then Wilkie. Thank you for all your hard work." She nodded at him and he only needed to snap his fingers and he was gone again.

She shuffled her papers, ticking another thing off her checklist. Now, if she could only finish her Transfiguration essay, then she could have some downtime. Besides, it was nearly 8pm already.

"Busy?" Came a wry voice behind her. Hermione fought the urge to jump up and wrap her arms around him, in fact, she didn't even turn around.

"Entirely." She said primly. She heard his suitcase clatter in the far off realms of Draco's bedroom. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, filling her nostrils with the smoky scent that sometimes permeated his clean-boy smell. He hummed, peering at her work and then kissed the top of her head gently. Hermione blushed entirely out of her own control. He withdrew his arms and walked around, plopping himself on the seat next to her. It was now Hermione finally got a good look at him.

He looked aggressively put together as always. He was wearing a black sweater Hermione had never seen before, and a white collar peeked out from the neckline. He looked considerably less haggard than the last time Hermione had seen him, and she found herself pleased with his apparent recovery. He lounged back on the seat, reclining his legs in a wide fashion. He looked entirely too predatory, and it gave Hermione the heebie-jeebies.

"Where were you?" She asked before she could stop herself.

"I can't tell you. Wizarding vow." He replied mechanically before looking a little sorrowful. "I would tell you if I could." Hermione faltered. Well, she'd have to accept he had secrets given she was still hiding several from him. Especially as she'd even made the same vow to Blaise Zabini of all people.

"Right, well. Whatever it is I hope it went okay." She replied a little awkwardly. Now whatever it was had definitely piqued her interest. No doubt was left in her mind that it was to do with his nightly activities.

They fell into a silence, Hermione poring over her notes once more. If she'd bothered to acknowledge it the tension in the room could've been cut by a knife. She was itching to ask more questions, to tell him about her week.

"Having fun Granger?" He asked, quirking a brow. She blinked several times, pulled from her thoughts.

"Oh I'm actually not. This dance business is driving me bonkers, though I think I've finally made a decent dent in it." He smirked lazily.

"Oh really? Decided on a theme yet?"

"Yes actually, French Masquerade." Draco snorted. "It was Professor Dumbledore's idea originally." She bit out, disliking his apathetic dismissal of the theming. Draco had the common sense to look a little more serious.

"I've been to many Masquerade Balls in my time Granger. I'm sure yours will not disappoint." He waved a hand dismissively as if it were a usual thing in Pureblood society to attend balls every weekend. "Who are you going with, anyway?" He did his best to make his voice casual but Hermione knew him well enough by now.

"Oh I don't know really." She replied in an equally unbothered tone. "I might see if Luna knows any nice Ravenclaw Seventh Year boys. All these Eighth Years are just too much to handle." She wiped her brow consternatiously. Draco frowned.

"I'm not sure I rather like the sound of that." His voice was hardened, and Hermione barely noticed him creeping up towards her.

"Well, it's not like you're my boyfriend or anything." She turned to look at him only to be surprised when his face was barely an inch from hers. He was resting on his knees on the sofa, one arm essentially trapping her to the edge of the piece of furniture. Predatory, indeed.

"No, that is very true. We are not exclusive." His voice dropped to a low murmur. "However I think I would be most_ put out_ if you decided to allow anyone else to accompany you to this dratted dance." Hermione was caught in his eyes again, hypnotising and molten silver. Oh, how she had missed this. Four days was a lifetime.

"Oh." Was all the Gryffindor could muster. "Really."

He hummed lowly, tracing his finger over the place where her jumper met bare skin. His fingers dipped beneath the soft wool to gently touch her collarbone. She shuddered as he whispered in her ear. "Yes, _really._"

Hermione felt herself unconsciously backing into the arm of the sofa. "Well, what if somebody's already asked me." She mumbled, stuttering over her words a little. Draco gave a possessive growl.

"Then you will tell them you find yourself indisposed and can no longer attend with them." Hermione gasped, his wandering hands had found their way to her bra strap and he pinged it a little, smoothing his fingers under the skin he found there. She was melting into the chair and she didn't even realise it.

Draco moved his knee, positioning it in between her legs as he lowered his body slowly to meet hers. They were chest to chest. "Well, it's not like we can go together." She said breathlessly, as Draco removed his hands from the neckline of her jumper and began moving it slowly beneath the same garment at her waist. His hands were warm and deliciously teasing. "People will -talk." She shuddered once more, feeling chills run up her spine as his fingers traced the band of her bra.

"No, that is true." Draco mused, his voice misleadingly innocent. "Though, you being the clever witch that you are, has picked the perfect theme in which to execute our plans." His hand brushed across her covered breast and she gave another loud gasp. He dipped his head, pressing soft kisses across her collar bone and the hollow of her neck. Hermione closed her eyes, feeling her bones sink into the soft cushions. She relaxed impossibly into his arms, feeling her limbs become gooey and pliant.

He pressed his knee ever so slightly into the apex of her thighs and Hermione projected a completely wanton sound that was most unlike her. He raised his head to look at her from behind his lashes, light grin painting his features. "You're so easy to please, Hermione." It was flirtatious and teasing but Hermione felt herself grow irritated at his playful demeanour. This was no laughing matter. His use of her given name only amplified her feelings and she reached out to grip the place where his neck met his shoulders, squaring up to him determinedly.

"This is no laughing matter Malfoy." She breathed out before planting her lips on his. The kiss was fiery, filled with the passion they had both shared for eachother for several months now. Draco eventually took easy dominance over the kiss, Hermione could do little but sigh into his easy embrace. He melded his body completely flush to hers and she groaned once more, biting his lip gently. In response, he lifted her up with one arm so she was straddling him. The piles of notes Hermione had been working on fluttered to the floor, long forgotten. Draco threaded both hands through her ponytail and _tugged, _twisting her wiry hair around his hands and pulling her head up so he could kiss her even more deeply. His heady possession of her entire body felt good to her, too good.

"I've missed you." She whispered between kisses, tugging at the soft fabric of his jumper. "Missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, my crazy witch." Hermione could feel him smirking through the kiss. "Oh so very much."

**A/N: oooo I'm sorry I never do cliffhangers but here's one. I hardly write steamy scenes so I hope this was good! Please let me know if you think they need more work lmao. I recently got a new laptop and all of my notes for this story and some chapter drafts were LOST so this chappie is late and also pretty short, I hope you can forgive me! - LOVE ALWAYS, bj x**


	24. A Dinner and a Show

Christmas Eve arrived with little fanfare. Draco found himself anticipating the Wintertide Dance more than he'd expected. The Great Hall had been closed off for the past two days while it underwent preparations for the dance, and he'd seen Hermione for perhaps ten waking minutes the entire time. She always looked hassled, messy hair falling out of its otherwise orderly bun, flush of exhaustion staining her cheeks. It was really quite beautiful in a disconcerting way. Despite her reservations about such activites she'd put more than 100% of her energy into the occasion. He was looking forward to seeing what she had planned.

Draco fingered the corsage box hidden in his dress robes. Perhaps she'd wear it, if he asked. It was hardly a Wizarding tradition but he knew of its existence in American Muggle culture. Perhaps she'd appreciate that sort of thing. He wore simple forest-green dress robes, traditional, not overly flashy. If he was truly not to be recognised tonight he would have to blend in. His mask was a hazy grey, edged with silver filigree and when attached magically to his face it would render the user impossible to focus upon and thus. He would not be found out, he'd made certain of that. The mask had been given to him by his mother when he was young. Because it matched his_ eyes. _Gag_._

Hermione had insisted on getting ready in Gryffindor Tower with the Weasley girl, to his annoyance. Although he was glad that he did not have to deal with a gaggle of giggling girls all evening, that would hardly do. So he waited for her in the Entrance Hall. It was crowded, students would not be allowed in until Hermione and the rest of the Prefects officially opened it.

And speak of the Devil and she may appear. Well, Angel may be more appropriate in this case. Draco watched Hermione descend the stone staircase, arm in arm with a fiery redhead wearing, predictably, bright red. She did not wear dress robes, instead choosing an elegant arangement of delicate cream silk chiffon. It draped over one freckled shoulder, trailing over the creamy expanse of skin there. It ended somewhere around mid-calf and Draco felt his throat go dry. Her hair was straight and glossy, falling in a waterfall down her back, slight neck emphasised by a small necklace of gleaming pearls. Her mask was not magically altered like his, but shined with a mother-of-pearl-sheen that caught the glittering candlelight every so often. She looked absolutely magnificent, and his chest swelled with pride.

She caught his eye and Draco could've sworn he saw her wink.

"Hello everybody." Her voice sounded in a clear resounding manner over the rabble of students. They all turned to look at her, some whistling in surprise. Not that Hermione ever read the Prophet, but if she had she'd've known that they recently published the details of hers and Weasley's arguments in a scalding cut-down of Hermione's intellectual prowess. Draco had been most amused when he'd read how she'd called Ronald a 'delightful toad.' Though he did doubt its factual integrity. Nothing in the Prophet was ever the entire truth.

Ever the picture of poised grace, Weasley stuck her fingers up at the offending fifth-year Ravenclaw. Hermione coughed. "Thank you for coming tonight. I know you're all hungry, so there shall be a sit-down meal prepared by the House Elves first, and then the dance shall begin."

Zacharias Smith had snuck his way up the bannister and puffed his chest out, motioning to himself and a rather mousy girl. Draco resisted the urge to go over and smack him. Hermione looked irritatedly towards the duo and back again. "I would like to thank the Prefects for all their hard work organising this event. It looks wondrous, and I couldn't be more happy with the way it turned out, and it's all thanks to them." She gave a strained smile. "Now, let the dance begin!"

With a wave of her hands, McGonagall had opened the large oak doors to the Great Hall. Gasps sounded as students entered the Hall. Hermione wasn't joking when she said it looked wondrous. The walls had been painted from floor to ceiling in huge Renaissance frescoes that moved like the other portraits in the Castle. Several gigantic chandeliers hung from the enchanted ceiling, projecting glittering light across the Hall. Indeed, it seemed that golden balls of light were actually floating around the room, bouncing lazily off the walls and some students.

The tables were not arranged in rows how they usually wre, but they formed a rectangle along the perimeter of the room. There would be no House Divisions tonight. Each table was decorated with large arrangements of cream roses, frozen with twinkling icicles hanging from them. Golden plates adorned the tables, each with an ivory menu placed delicately on top.

The so-called dance floor was situated in the middle of the tables. The floor had been enchanted to look like solid marble, most excellently he may add. The entire spectacle was completely wondrous.

Draco searched for Hermione in the crowds but could not find the cream figure in the hordes of masked students. Draco was forced to socialise with several eager fifth-years who clearly did not recognise him, as they were simpering for a dance with him later on. Not bloody likely. He looked on in dismay as he saw her conversing off to one side with several Professors. He could hardly go and fetch her, magical mask or no. His hands slipped around the corsage again before he changed his mind once more. He would have to wait.

By now, most of the students had finished milling around and were seated at the table. Draco took a seat hurriedly next to some boys that he did not recognise. To his delight, he saw the woman he'd been most entranced by take a seat across the Hall almost opposite to her. Well, if he couldn't sit with her he supposed this would be the next best thing. She would find him. He was sure of it.

* * *

Hermione watched Draco from the corner of her eye. She was supposed to be engaging in conversation with Professor Sprout but found herself quite distracted. She knew it was him, despite his best efforts he was unmistakable, especially to her. She watched him take a seat at the table, boys on either side of him. She didn't suppose that he knew them, they looked far too young.

She extricated herself from the idle conversation and found a seat. They were nearly all taken, save for a few on the opposite side of the hall. Ginny had saved her a seat though, and she beckoned her over with a manicured hand. She rested her elbows on the table, not pausing to glance at the menu. She had already seen it after all.

"This is incredible Hermione! You did a great job." Ginny spoke from the left of her, smoothing over her own blood-red robes.

"Thanks Gin. It wasn't just my idea though." She replied absentmindedly, still searching for Draco amongst the sea of people.

"Yeah, I wish Harry was here though. It's not nice being here alone." She found the silver-haired Slytherin. To her astonishment, he was staring at her. She looked away quickly, shying her gaze back to him after a moment. He looked impeccable. Deep robes of dark green complimented his pale complexion, hair slicked back, delicate grey mask affixed to his stupid perfect cheekbones. Even from twenty feet away Hermione could see his eyebrow raise and a smirk spread across his face. What a prat.

"Same, I miss Harry." She answered Ginny, not really listening at all. Malfoy had just taken a sip from his golden goblet and Hermione was finding it hard to breathe. He was deliberately toying with her and she was definitely going to lose.

"I mean, it's not like you have anything to worry about though. Not when you have your own date in Draco Malfoy already here."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Hermione said dreamily, resting her hands on her chin before realising what she'd said. She flushed, finally tearing her eyes away from the man in question. "What?!"

"You seem, _preoccupied_." Ginny replied in a knowing tone. "Looking for somebody in particular?"

"No." She replied hastily. "Just making sure everyone's having a good time."

"Come on Hermione, even I can tell how close you've gotten. I can't see the man but I know you've been staring dreamily at him for the past ten minutes." Hermione took a grumpy bite of her starter.

"I don't know what to do." She grumbled, mouth full of garlic toast.

"Just go for it!" Ginny waved her fork around enthusiastically. "Nobody can tell it's him. I certainly can't. You fancy him don't you?"

Hermione glared at her. "Yes, I fancy him." Way to put it in blunt terms, sure.

"Well then what are you waiting for? Just have one night of normalcy for once in your life." Her gaze flickered back to the Slytherin. He looked to be absorbed in his food, but when she looked, it was if he could feel her eyes on him because he looked up too, catching her gaze with another sinful smirk.

Hermione took her last bite of toast, feeling her ears burn with heat. "Fine."

Luna joined them late, wearing a radiantly orange and green spectacle. "_It reminded me of Christmas, you see." _There weren't really any seats to spare but Hermione and Ginny budged over, sharing their seat with their friend nonetheless.

Hermione indulged Ginny and Luna on their mindless chatter, pausing every so often to give her input. It was nice to be here, nice to socialise with friends. It had been such a long time since she'd been able to do this, properly. She'd missed this girly company more than the usual staunch Hermione would admit.

Finally, the dinner ended and the music began to play. Wordlessly the tables were swept clean and disappeared. House Elf magic was really quite fantastic, she'd have to thank Bingley and Wilkie for all their hard work later.

She searched the dance floor for the person she really wanted to dance with but found nobody. She spotted Ginny swept up with a nameless stranger, and Luna was dancing by herself as per usual. It was entirely packed, a little claustrophobic really. A nameless arm pulled her out of the rabble.

"Granger, fancy a dance?" Came an extremely pompous voice. She rolled her eyes. She would surely never escape the deathly irritating Zacharias Smith, mask or no mask there was no mistaking his droll tone.

"No thank you Smith, I'm actually looking for someone." She replied politely, pulling her arm away. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a lone poor-postured figure that could only be Neville Longbottom. Hermione was surprisingly good at this mask-guessing game, perhaps she knew her classmates better than she'd thought.

"Neville?" She tried nervously.

"Who are you? How did'ya know it was me?" Came Neville's jumpy voice.

"It's me, He-" Hermione paused, perhaps it was better Neville didn't know who she was. "Nobody. I'm nobody." She replied firmly. "Would you like to dance"

Neville blinked in surprise. "Uh, yeah, sure. I'm not very good though." He stuttered. Clearly he didn't suspect that it was her. He was never usually this nervous with her. She placed his hand in hers, doing her best to avoid the total awkwardness that projected between them.

"Great!" She said cheerily as they began to dance. Merlin, it was really not great. She loved Neville, but he had stepped on her toes twice in the past ten seconds.

"May I cut in?" A unmistakable deep voice resounded from behind her.

Neville gave a nervous twitch of his head, releasing Hermione to the stranger behind her.

"I wondered how long it would take you to find me. Imagine my surprise when I find you aren't looking at all." His deft fingers slipped around her waist, smoothing over the soft fabric at her hip and then gripping it tightly. Hermione held in a small gasp. "This evening has been most frustrating so far. Try not to dance with too many strangers." His voice was edged with possessive protectiveness and Hermione whirled around, mirthful laughter at her lips.

"Strangers? Merlin Draco, that was Neville Longbottom." She whispered, leaning up to reach his ear, cautious not to let anyone overhear them. She heard Draco scowl and then wrap his hands back around her waist.

"There's no difference. Dance with me." He said obstinately. She pushed away from him, resting her hands against his shoulders.

"Fine. If you insist." She pouted, remaining the respectful distance away as was proper. She was sure he'd approve of that, knowing his lectures on public properiety at times. He ignored her obvious movements and pulled her back flush to his chest. "How can you tell that it was me, anyways?" She asked as they waltzed.

"You're very distinctive." Was all he replied, twirling her around. Hermione gave an unladylike snort.

"Distinctive?" She queryed, eyebrows raising. His chin tilted towards her, calculating his next words.

"There isn't a person in this room that looks as radiantly beautiful as you do tonight, Granger. Now shut your mouth and stop fishing for compliments." His voice was rough and passionate in her ear and Hermione's mouth opened in shocked indignation as he pushed her away again.

"Oh you-." She was lost for words. "You-. You're such an arse!" Was all she could scramble together. He only chuckled, twirling her again.

"Eloquent as always sweetheart." She only stared up at him, entranced by the steps he led her through. He truly was an impeccable dancer. An unspoken sort of tension hung in the air, one Hermione was slightly afraid to explore.

Hermione waited perhaps ten bars of the waltz before she could feel ready speak again. "For the record, you look very handsome too." She huffed.

He gave her one of his rare too-wide-for-his-mouth smiles and Hermione felt herself go weak at the knees. "As always." Came his arrogant tone as he bowed his head towards her. Hermione sighed once more, feeling a mixture of irritation and amusement.

"Do you ever let up?"

"For you my dear? Never." His eyes sparkled with amusement. Hermione could do little to argue with him, only smiling back up at him despite her reservations.

"You're awfully good at dancing." She remarked as he executed another flawless maneuver. His movements were practically hypnotising.

"It comes with the territory I'm afraid, Pureblooded and all that. I've had ballroom lessons since birth practically." His tone was cautious, as if he was afraid that she would judge him. She kept quiet.

When the dance came to an end Draco released his hands from around her waist. "Would you like a drink?" He bowed his head towards her again. Hermione nodded her assent and he strode off vaguely in the direction of the refreshments table.

She had little less than three seconds to breathe before she was being swept away by a different man. He wore a full-face mask so Hermione could not see his face, but his voice was irrefutably Italian-accented. "Zabini?" Hermione blurted in surprise.

"I need to talk to you." He spoke quickly. "We don't have much time before Malfoy returns. Yes, I know it's him. He's had that mask since we were in pre-school." He answered Hermione's questioning gaze before she could even open her mouth.

"Well what is it?" She replied impatiently. Draco would flip if he saw her dancing with Zabini. Come to think of it, so would Ginny.

"Not here. Meet me in the same place as last time on Boxing Day at 4pm. It's important." He withdrew from their dance quickly. He had gone before Hermione even had a chance to reply.

Now she knew why, she saw Draco march angrily towards her. "Why was Zabini talking to you?" He thrust a silver chalice into her hand, eyes flashing as he glared towards the retreating Slytherin.

"Not here." Hermione echoed Zabini's words, pulling Draco's hand towards her. She looked up at him with big pleading eyes. "Come on, lets go outside."

Draco looked as if he was about to protest but followed her into the icy night nonetheless. His hand was large and warm in hers. She hoped he'd understand. They were both oblivious to the stares from pairs of invisible eyes.

**A/N: Hi so finally managed to finish the chapter, I really enjoyed this chapter. Hopefully it's good, it's a lot longer this time so hopefully that makes up for it being a little late. I'll try to update as much as I can this week! Thank you, please review! Love, BJ X**


	25. An Icicle-Covered Trellis

**A/N: I am pleased to announce that this story is off hiatus! I finally feel well enough to return to this story, I've spent about a week in hospital but I wanted to thank everyone for their kind messages and give my ultimate love to everyone who has been sticking with this story. I am so grateful for all of your support ily 3 I will be returning to REGULAR updates, probably weekly or more from now on. For now here is a mini update just to resolve the loose ends from the last chapter. I hope you still want to stick with this story! - BJ**

Hermione's hand was sweaty in Draco's as she pulled him out of the glittering hall and into the cold night. Her mask slipped a little from her nose and she pushed it back hastily. She led the tall Slytherin along the gravelled path, their footsteps crunching as they walked. They stopped finally under a deserted trellis, laden with nothing but icicles.

Hermione turned to face Draco, his face a shadowy veil in the dark. She furrowed her brows nervously and bit her lip, trying to think of the best thing to say.

"Hermione." Draco's gruff voice broke her out of her thoughts, it was edged with an odd kind of cool anger. "What's going on?" Hermione flinched.

"Well, here's the thing." She started uneasily.

Draco made a noise of frustration, releasing her hand so he could run his hand through his hair. Even in the dark moonlight Hermione could see the pale gleam of it.

"I need you to be honest with me Hermione. No messing around" He stepped closer to her so she could see his eyes, open wide and pleading. "He's dangerous."

Hermione exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. "He wants to meet me. In a few days." She threaded her hands back through his, they were warm like always.

"To do what?" Draco jutted out his chin. Hermione's breath shuttered.

"I don't know. Or I can't tell you. I'm not really sure on the specifics." Draco gave another frustrated growl.

"I'm coming with you." Hermione felt hot panic burn in the pit of her stomach. If he found out that she was investigating him with one of his worst enemies he would never forgive her.

"No." She said too quickly. "I can't. I have to go alone Draco."

"Bullshit. You can't've expected me to let you be alone with him." He spoke with a derision that made Hermione bristle.

"Let me? You don't let me do anything Draco Malfoy! As it is this is hardly any of your business." She pushed on his chest, glaring up at him through the darkness.

"I'm trying to protect you damnit!" Hermione could see the warm puff of his angry breath as he paced the clearing.

"I don't need protecting! I can handle myself."

Draco rounded on her in a flash. "Can you really?" He whispered low and dangerous, Hermione felt the hot burn of the tip of his wand on the hollow of her neck but she was faster, narrowing her eyes and lifting up on her toes to meet his eye level. She stared into his stupid grey eyes and twisted her wand into his stomach, jabbing it painfully into his emerald robes.

"Yes, really." Her voice was acrid and fierce and she felt a small modicum of satisfaction when Draco reeled back in a mixture of shock and pain.

"Don't you _ever_ raise your wand to me again Draco Malfoy." She circled around him, hair crackling with unrestrained magical rage. "Don't you _ever_ assume I can't handle myself. You may be a Malfoy, but I think you have forgotten who _I_ am." Draco just stared at her, dumbfounded.

She took a deep breath, calming her magic and withdrawing her wand. She stepped towards him, reaching out to smooth his ruffled robes. "Please. Just give me this." She said softly. They stayed like this for several moments and then Draco slumped, resting his forehead on her bare shoulder. His warm breath tickled her collarbone.

"I hate this." He mumbled, tracing his hands along the silky fabric of her dress before wrapping them around her waist and pulling her flush to him. "But fine. Do you what you have to do. I won't stop you."

Hermione wrapped her hands around his neck, kissing him gently on the lips. She could smell his comforting clean smell now, except it was mixed with the faint smell of some sort of expensive aftershave that he never usually wore. It made her smile, he did care. It was far from an apology, but from Draco, for now, it would do.


	26. A Perfect Moment in a Sea of Just-Okay

**A/N: Hello my dears, wow, it's been a while. I'm so so sorry I haven't had the chance to update in so many months. Unfortunately my health issues have been extremely disruptive in my life and I've not wanted to put out a half-hearted chapter in the hopes that it will appease my lovely readers. I will do better next time. In the meantime, please accept this next tiny chapter as an apology. I have also decided to work on some new stories on AO3, so please keep an eye out for them. all my love -BJ**

Draco and Hermione arrived back at their dormitory at just after eleven. It was early, but despite her otherwise otherworldly appearance, Draco noticed the way Hermione's shoulders slumped with exhaustion and he'd caught her yawning at least three times at the dance. He kept one hand slung possessively over her shoulder, though he doubted anyone would recognise either of them: he'd made sure of that.

Hermione busied herself with taking off her shoes, and just generally fumbling around awkwardly. Draco did nothing, preferring to rest on the arm of the sofa and watch her ignore the elephant in the room. Hermione avoided his obvious perusal of her, instead draping a thick grey cardigan over her dress and reaching a shaking hand to smooth over her hair. It had begun to release itself from whatever spell she had cast, so it hung in soft curls down her back. Draco itched to run his hands through them.

"I'm fine Draco." Hermione sighed. "It's just been a very long and stressful day." She still had her back to him.

He cleared his throat expectantly. "Are you ill?" He kept his tone lilting, teasing.

Draco got up, laying a reassuring hand on her wool-covered shoulder. She leant back into him, sighing softly as he rubbed her shoulders. "I think you did marvellously."

"Really?" Hermione's voice was absentminded, but there was an honest shake of insecurity behind it.

"Indeed. Tonight was a triumph." He dipped his head, tracing his nose along the crook of her neck and up so he could whisper lowly in her ear. "I'm proud of you."

He felt her shudder with some satisfaction. "I'm sorry for getting angry. I don't know what came over me." She murmured shakily. He laid a soft kiss on her neck, smoothing his hands over her shoulders.

"Lets not think of that now." He hushed, thinking of his abandoned plan. "Are you tired?"

"A little. Why?"

"I have something I'd like to show you." Draco hoped the nervousness did not show in his voice.

Hermione turned to face him, and Draco found himself captivated by the sincere glow in her honeyed eyes. Even behind the mask, Draco could see her earnest expression. Gods, she was just so _good_. She blinked once, then twice.

"Do you trust me?" He murmured once more. He felt her place a small hand on his cotton covered chest, and he barely dared to look away, feeling an unfamiliar warm glow flush his cheeks.

Hermione gave a small noise of assent, barely there but still Draco heard it. Wordlessly, wandlessly, he conjured a long strip of silk fabric. "Close your eyes." He whispered. Draco saw her long lashes flutter closed, but not before a slight brow quirked in amusement.

He felt her hand leave his chest as he moved behind her and immediately missed its casual familiarity. He wrapped the thin fabric around her eyes, tying it at the temples. Unable to resist, a hand brushed her soft curls, trailing over the space where her neck met her back. He laid one, and then two soft kisses on the crook of her jaw. Hermione gave a small gasp and the part of Draco that held his masculine pride swelled.

"Not now, save your pretty little noises for another time." His breath tickled Hermione's neck and he felt her lean back gently into him. Recovering the shreds of his self restraint, he grasped Hermione's hand and led her out of the door.

* * *

Hermione shivered in the cold, the only warmth from Draco's large hand in hers. They had been walking for what had felt like hours, but she was sure was only minutes. She had felt his hands trace across her waist as he guided her down several flights of stairs, heard his teasing whispers as he told her how good she was doing. Hermione was thoroughly worked up, the tension rising from her hips and bubbling in her chest. What would he show her? Would he show her the reason for her suspicions?

After a while, they came to a halt. She felt Draco's hand leave hers and rise to untie the makeshift blindfold. The silky fabric slid away easily, and she was greeted with the sight of Draco's searching face. "We're here."

Hermione dared her eyes to leave his face, to look around, and saw only dim darkness, barely illuminated by pale moonlight. She felt her feet slip a little, righting herself quickly and trying not to blush as Draco's hands found her waist.

She then realised where they were. They stood in the the Black Lake, frozen over now for months. Draco had taken her past the grandstands, into a small cove hidden in the nook of the sloping hills that surrounded the dark castle.

Hermione saw her breath come out in surprised puffs in the cold night as Draco raised his hand. In it was a small orb of glowing white light. He rolled it around his fingers before tossing it into the air. Within seconds, the alcove had illuminated by thousands of similar pinpricks of light, floating as if weightless against the crisp air.

"You've been practicing." Hermione's mouth was wide open in surprised wonderment, almost slipping again as she spun to examine the alcove, stopped only by Draco's hands renewed at her waist. "Draco! That's amazing."

She saw another one of his rare too-wide smiles pull at his lips and felt an unusual bubble of pride in her chest. He did not reply, instead flicking his wrist in a curt flourish. His eyes never left hers as the crackle of record-player-music started up from seemingly nowhere. The dulcet croons of Edith Piaf echoed softly in the cavern and Hermione could not hold back her gasp this time as Draco pulled her close, one hand twisting to hold hers, the other on her waist.

They swayed softly in the gentle light as Draco led her to dance once more. Hermione flickered her eyes up to his, losing herself in the enchanting depths of soft grey. The jazz tinkled along the stone walls as Draco leant down slowly to rest his forehead against hers. Hermione could barely feel the cold now, feeling only the comfort of Draco's strong hands against her body.

His eyes sparkled with a charming allure she had never seen before and she dared herself to pull her eyes away from them, gaze instead falling to the thin curve of his lips. She heard his soft chuckle and flushed as his hand left hers. She could do little to breathe then, feeling only Draco's fingers tilt her chin upwards and his lips envelop hers. My, she could just stay like this _forever._ One perfect moment in a sea of just-okay ones. _Luftmensch._

**A/N: Well? What do we think? Crumbs! I give you crumbs!**


	27. A Very Merry Christmas

Hermione stirred, her limbs stiff and aching at her sides. She lifted her head off the warm chest it had been resting against, gazing at the sleeping man beneath her. It would've been cliched for her to say that he looked peaceful when he slept, for most times he did not. He would twitch, grumble and shake, plagued by his nightly torments, but for once he looked completely at rest, hands thrown over her body in a careless sort of possession that made her stomach swoop.

He quirked one eyelid open. "Have you quite finished ogling me, witch?" Hermione blushed, hiding her face in his dress shirt.

"You're awake." She mumbled into his chest, attempting to move off him quickly.

At that, he rolled onto his side, strong arms pulling her flush to the entire length of his body. "Ah-ah, where do you think you're going?" His voice was cheeky, rich and melodious. It filled Hermione with an odd buzzing noise from tip to toe.

"Draco." She sighed softly, shifting on the sofa so she could look up at him. "We stayed out all night."

Draco only looked back at her, a lazy smile curling at his lips. "We stayed out all night." He reaffirmed, pulling her on top of him as he sat up so she straddled the swathes of blankets around his waist. Hermione kept her back taut and her eyebrows knitted. He laid a soothing hand on the small of her back and began to trace circles over the satin there. "_Hermione_, relax. We didn't do anything wrong." The way he said her name in his deep calming voice clouded Hermione's brain and she began to relax into his warm touches.

His hands soon began to wander, tracing up underneath her cardigan, onto the expanse of her bare back. The feather light touches sent Hermione's head spinning, and she melted into his lap, unable to concentrate on what she had been planning to say next.

He smirked again, hooded eyes flickering lazily across her face. "Cat got your tongue Miss Granger?" The careful roll of his ennunciation was all she could focus on, and she barely noticed when he slipped the soft grey knit from her shoulders. His hands sketched the outline of each freckle on her shoulders and upper arms. Hermione's mouth fell open with barely restrained tension and suddenly he lifted one knee up quickly, sending Hermione cascading closer to him.

He caught her lips deftly, kissing her lips gently at first but it soon became hotter, more intense. His ever rogueish hands drifted down her waist and gripped her thighs, running his palms along them just enough times to rile Hermione up.

It surprised him when Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair, because he groaned into her mouth, a hoarse desperate timbre that sent shivers down Hermione's spine and desperate to hear that sound again. She scraped her fingernails down his scalp and he groaned again. "Fuck. _Hermione_." His voice had turned gravelly.

Hermione gasped now for she felt his fingers touch bare skin once more. He had found the edge of her gown and dipped his hands underneath, his hands running across her thighs. His fingers sent flickers of electricity through her spine and jolted her into action.

"Draco." She groaned. He did not respond, tracing his fingers higher and higher. "_Draco_. Stop." Hermione fought for breath. "We need to stop."

Malfoy's hands stilled under her dress and he quickly withdrew his hands. He slowly opened his eyes, looking through hooded eyelids at her. His face was uncharacteristically flushed, chest heaving with breath and lips swollen and bitten. She had done that. Hermione felt her heartrate quicken and fought the urge to kiss him again.

"Merry Christmas Hermione." He whispered, voice low and teasing in his throat, eyes flickering with a hint of hidden mischief.

"Merry Christmas." She whispered back, barely trusting her voice to remain stable. She shifted off him and then wrapped her cardigan back around her suddenly chilly arms. It was now she noticed the small mountain of gifts underneath their rather sparse-looking christmas tree.

"Oh!" She gasped, rushing to the tree. She sat crosslegged and began shufflng through the presents, unawares of Draco's amused stare behind her. "This one's for you Draco." She intoned, waving a neatly wrapped box above her head. "And this one." She raised her other hand above her head.

She felt an unsure set of legs settle to her left and passed over the boxes. She could almost hear his frown.

"What's the matter?" She asked, neatly slipping a finger under the sellotape of her first present.

"Nothing." He mumbled, turning over the box in his hands. Hermione gave him a look.

"I just wasn't expecting anything this year really." Draco blanched, looking nervously again at the box, as if it would spontaneously jump out of his hands and start morris dancing.

Hermione softened her gaze, reaching out a hand to rest on his. "There are more people that care about you than you realise." She gestured to a smaller box by his knees. "That one's from me."

She looked away from him, suddenly shy, turning her attention back to the lumpy package in her hands. It was a pale orange hand-knitted jumper, courtesy of Mrs Weasley no doubt. She smiled in fond familiarity, slipping the jumper over her head. It was now she remembered that she was still wearing the champagne-coloured gown from last night, and resisted the urge to chuckle at the odd combination.

"H for Hermione?" Draco pointed towards her chest. Hermione wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling a little sheepish.

"Yeah. It's a Weasley tradition." She did not know why she sounded so embarrassed.

Draco did not reply, but she could've sworn she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile, if even for a second.

The next parcel Hermione opened was from Harry, a set of new quills in assorted colours. Draco eyed the blood-red one, smirking in amused remembrance. Hermione went the same colour as her quill.

From Professor McGonagall, a book on Gamp's Laws, from Bill and Fleur, a new set of enchanted knitting needles, from Ron, a rather uninspired second-hand copy of Advanced Transfiguration. She huffed. This was a OWL book, not that Ron had ever bothered to pay attention in Transfiguration, let alone read it.

There was one parcel left under the tree, and it occurred to Hermione that she didn't know who it was from. It was neatly wrapped in delicate silver paper, a far cry from the obnoxiously brash multi-coloured affairs she had opened previously.

She heard a voice clear gruffly to her right. Draco was staring open mouthed at his first box. Hermione leant over to look, gasping too. It was a large collection of dainty potion vials, all empty. They shimmered under the light of the candles. A single sheet of parchment rested on top of them.

**Dear Draco,**

**Severus entrusted these vials to you in his will, it was his wish for you to have them.**

**Yours,**

**Mother.**

Draco coughed again, rubbing his face with the back of his hand roughly. "I didn't know the greasy bastard liked me so much." Hermione placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He was shaking slightly.

"He loved you like a son Draco, you know that. He made the Unbreakable Vow to protect you." She said softly.

Draco drew a sharp breath. "Yeah. I guess he did." He replied quietly, and Hermione knew the conversation was over.

She turned back to her mystery gift, plucking it from under the tree. She took the lid off carefully, almost reverently. Inside was a black jewellery box and she retrieved it, curiosity peaking.

Inside was a thin silver bracelet, made from a shimmering metal chain that actually seemed to ebb and flow with the light. On it was a single charm, a tiny snowflake.

"It's charmed. All sorts of protective magic, wards, charms, runes. That sort of thing." Came the quiet voice to her left.

Hermione gasped. "This is from you?" She asked.

Draco nodded slowly. "I thought you might like it. Maybe. I mean, it's functional and everything. Which is very you." His voice was stilted and awkward but Hermione leapt over to him and threw her arms around his neck, knocking him to the floor.

"I love it. Thank you so much Draco." She whispered, feeling his chest relax under hers with every word. She got up, feeling a little shiny-eyed. "Put it on for me?" Her voice was small as she held out the delicate piece of jewellery.

Draco took it wordlessly, and when his fingers brushed gently against her wrist she felt a spark of electricity shoot up her arm. It was remarkably intimate, vulnerable, the way he fastened the bracelet around her wrist. She felt the warm buzz of protective magic wash over her, and she sighed in contentment.

Draco began to open his present from her, and Hermione felt the hot bubble of anxiety well up in her chest. What do you get the boy who has everything?

"It's an enchanted mirror." She prompted. "Harry and Sirius used to use a similar pair when he was on the run, they're linked, you can use them to talk to eachother."

Draco turned over the ornate hand mirror in his hand. "There's only one."

"Well, someone else has the other." Hermione paused, feeling the well of anxiety crest and crash over her. "Andromeda Tonks."

Draco swivelled towards her, face blank and unreadable. Hermione began to panic.

"I mean, I know she's your aunt. She asked me if there was any way she could get in contact with you. She wants to be in contact with you Draco, wants to know you, be your family." Her voice swelled with passion as she got further and further into her tirade. "She's alone now you see, after Ted and T-" She choked on Tonks' name, unable to actually say it out loud. "Well anyways. She has a grandson. His name is Teddy. -Theodore really but everyone calls him Teddy. He's an orphan now, and he needs all the family he can-"

"Hermione." Draco cut her off, face stony and impassive. "I get the idea."

Hermione fell silent, before opening her mouth again. Draco raised a hand to silence her and she felt quite mollified.

"I'll think about it. Okay? This is a lot to take in." Draco continued to examine the mirror, furrowing his brow. Hermione remained silent, equally as furrowed. Was this a mistake?

There was just one present left by Draco's feet, and eventually, he reached for it.

"It's addressed to both of us." He said, surprise colouring his tone. Still, he lifted off the lid of the box only a little gingerly.

Instantly, he dropped the box, swears colouring his colourful exclamation. "What the fuck!"

Hermione wished she hadn't looked. She really wished she hadn't. But she leant over and let out a similar strangled noise. Inside the box was a single bloody mass. A heart. Hermione felt dread rise up like bile in her throat.

"Is that...?" Her voice was barely a croak, she could barely say the words.

"It's about the size of a house elf." Draco's voice was pained, if Hermione could've torn her eyes away from the graphic scene she would've seen him head-in-hand, pale and ill-looking.

"You don't mean?" Her voice was treacle, sticking thickly to her throat.

"It's on the note. I'm so sorry sweetheart."

Hermione could not hold her shaking hands still enough as he passed her a small blood stained fragment of parchment.

**Poor Bingley. Doesn't he know that curiosity killed the cat?**

Hermione ran for the toilet.

**A/N: Finally a new full length chapter! Please review and tell me your thoughts and theories! Poor Dramione can never get any peace, can they? I'm so happy to be doing regular updates again, all your opinions are welcome! All my love, -BJ x**


	28. A Quiet Embrace

**A/N: For all who are wondering, the issue with review posting is currently fixed, so please leave them to your heart's consent. Thank you for understanding x**

Hermione returned from the bathroom, face pale and wan, hands shaking relentlessly. She'd lost what little remained of her stomach to the toilet bowl. Her eyes were swollen and sore, she had attempted to stifle her cries in order to stay strong but upon seeing the now-closed box on the carpeted floor, a fresh batch began to roll down her cheeks anew.

Draco had his back to her. "I've just sent a floo message to the Headmistress. She'll be along shortly." Draco's voice was hard, he had closed off.

Hermione shuddered with a wave of grief. "How could somebody do this? _Why_ would somebody do this? He was just an elf. He never hurt anyone." Her voice was a broken wail, rising and falling like the crests of a wave.

"I think I have a pretty good idea." Came Draco's grim voice. He got up from the sofa and began to pace the floor, feet making soft thuds on the carpet.

"No." Hermione gasped. "You don't think." Her mouth fell open and she paused, pieces clicking into place as she caught sight of Draco's cold eyes, eyebrows knitted into a frown. "Zabini? He wouldn't"

Draco leant on the arm of the sofa, running his hands through his already-sleep-mussed hair. "Wouldn't he? You don't know him Hermione. You've spoken to him like twice, maximum?"

Hermione's gaze turned sheepish, almost apologetic. Draco's eyes narrowed to slits.

"You've met him more often?" He hissed, voice an angry slither. Hermione saw his knuckles whiten on the arm of the sofa. "Whatever it is you two are up to, you have to tell me. Now."

"I can't." Hermione wept, guilt rolling over her now, at both Draco's betrayed expression, and the thought that she might somehow be responsible for Bingley's death. "I made a vow."

He got up, striding angrily over to her. He grabbed her hand, grabbing it and twisting his fingers around her delicate wrist forcefully. Hermione whimpered in pain. "Tell me!" He projected as much venom in his voice as Hermione had ever heard. "You're putting yourself in danger you stupid witch."

When Hermione did not respond, his lips curled into a contemptous sneer, eyebrow raising. "Right. I see how it is." He released Hermione's sore wrist and she cradled it, seeing red marks from his fingerprints already. "Well enjoy your little statute of secrecy. I want no part in it." He turned his back to her.

"You don't mean that." Hermione whispered brokenly, sinking to the floor. "You don't." Silent tears rolled down her cheeks once more.

"I do." Hermione pulled her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.

"You don't." She repeated. "I know you Draco."

"Why would I want to see you hurt yourself?" He exploded, kneeling on the floor in front of her. His eyes were red and shining. "Why would I want to see someone I care about get hurt?"

Hermione sniffled. "You care about me?" Her voice was tiny, barely there. She stared him down, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the corner of Mrs Weasley's jumper.

Draco did not get to answer, for it was now that they heard a knock at the portrait door. Hermione leapt up at the noise, and practically ran on shaking knees in order to answer it.

"Professor McGonagall." She said hoarsely as a way of greeting the rather stern professor. Minerva strode into the silent common room, only the crackling of the embers in the dying hearth to be heard. Hermione wiped her eyes again self consciously.

"I received Mr Malfoy's floo message. There has been a murder of a Hogwarts House Elf?" Her voice was clipped, and she surveyed the room with her beady eyes. "Who was it?"

"B-Bingley." Hermione stuttered, voice catching in her throat once more. Professor McGonagall placed a hand to her chest and looked at her with sad eyes.

"Really? You're quite certain?"

Hermione nodded, not quite trusting her voice to carry conversation at the moment.

"That's a shame. I rather liked that elf." The Headmistress sighed wearily, sinking down to lean against the table.

"His heart was delivered to us in a box." Draco snapped from behind her. It made Hermione jump.

"And I assure you, I will get to the bottom of this Mr Malfoy. So I suggest you keep a close watch on the way you address a Hogwarts teacher." Came the Headmistress's waspish reply.

"I already know who did it!" Came Draco's explosive reply.

"And who might that be?" The Professor raised a skeptical brow.

"Blaise Zabini." Draco said triumphantly, crossing his arms. The Professor spluttered, Hermione felt her own breath catch too. What was he doing?

"That accusation is unfounded Mr Malfoy! Do you have any proof?"

"I just know." Draco set his jaw. "He hates me."

"Actually, it is impossible for Mr Zabini to have committed such an act, given he is currently holidaying in Italy with his mother and step-father. I highly suggest you refrain from making unfettered accusations without proof in the future Mr Malfoy." Her gaze narrowed. "You of all people should know how it feels to be accused of things you had no part in playing." Hermione's head reeled with this information. If not Zabini, then who would murder such a sweet house-elf?

Draco only muttered under his breath, whirling out of the room and into his own, slamming the door as he left. Hermione flinched again.

"I shall need to take possession of Bingley's remains, Miss Granger. I have no doubts that the House Elves will want to arrange a Rites Ceremony for them." Minerva picked up the box gingerly. Hermione said nothing.

"I appreciate that this must be most distressing to both you and Mr Malfoy, we all process grief in different ways." Her voice was motherly in a way Hermione had not heard since the War, she laid a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "However I must ask that you do not go looking for Bingley's killer, nor that you publicise his murder. This is better left as an internal matter."

Hermione only grimaced in return.

* * *

"Draco!" Hermione called. "She's gone. Get your arse out here right now." Her voice had a false bravado to it that did not match how she felt on the inside. Her heart felt completely broken, shattered into a million pieces, and a heavy weight rested on the tops of her ribs. But she had to see if Draco was alright, had to make sure he was not falling apart like she.

Several minutes passed in which Hermione only heard the brief shuffling of someone putting their slippers on, and then the click of an opening door. "What do you want Granger?" It was Malfoy, freshly showered. He wore a simple white cotton shirt and black slacks. He was still towelling his pale blonde hair. His eyes were red.

"I'm going to go get changed. I expect you out here in ten minutes." Hermione put as much purpose into her voice that her hoarse voice would let her.

Draco only rolled his eyes. "Bossy witch."

Hermione dressed quickly, brushing her teeth and pulling her soft Weasley jumper back over her head. It was strangely comforting, and she now wished more than ever that she was back with the homely scent of the Burrow, and all of the friends she called family. She tied her messy curls into a messy mass at the base of her neck, securing it with a scrunchie. There was no time for vanity in times such as these.

Draco was waiting for her like she'd asked, long limbs stretched languidly over the chintz sofa.

"Are you okay?" Hermione tried carefully.

"Are you?" Draco countered. "You look like shit."

Hermione usually would've snorted, replying with an equally barbarous remark, but she found all of energy sapped from her bones. She sank into the sofa, pulling Draco's legs into her lap.

"Good point." She sighed, running her hands along Draco's fabric-covered shins. Draco sat up at that, brows knitting together. He held out one arm, and then the other.

"Come here you silly witch." He said softly, and Hermione gladly dove into his cotton embrace, sniffing his clean scent and letting it fill her nostrils. Her breathing evened out and they sank back into the sofa, Hermione resting on Draco's slender chest.

"It will be okay eventually. We will find out who did this, and then we will make them pay." Was all she heard from beneath her. She did not reply, nor did she know how long they laid there for.

She estimated it was around lunchtime when she rose from Draco's lap, idea firmly rooted in her brain. "Will you do something with me?" She murmured.

"What is it?" Came Draco's soft reply. She traced circles over the fabric of Draco's shirt.

"When I still lived with my parents, we had this tradition. We'd always decorate the Christmas tree together, pick the ornaments out - everything the Muggle way. I haven't had chance to do it in several years, since the War, and-" Hermione paused. "Well, they're currently in Australia, and they won't be coming back anytime soon, not until I figure out how to reverse a memory charm." Her voice wobbled and she could've sworn she felt Draco's arms tighten imperceptibly.

"You want me to help you decorate the tree." Draco finished for her, stirring from underneath her.

"Yes." Hermione breathed. "Well you don't have to - if you don't want to. It was just an idea."

"Where are the decorations?" His sleepy voice replied. Hermione could barely believe her ears.

Once she had summoned the boxes of decoration, Draco began sifting through them.

"We usually start with the lights, then the tinsel." Hermione prompted. Draco gave her a look.

"I know how to decorate a Christmas tree Granger."

Hermione cracked a brief smile and then shifted to her knees to help him in the sorting.

They'd decided on strings of silver lights '-Slytherin Silver-' Draco had imposed, puffing his chest out proudly, and reams of golden tinsel. (It was Hermione's turn to preen then, it was '-Gryffindor Gold-' after all.)

Hermione's hands had covered Draco's as he'd struggled to place the delicate fairy lights on their rather bedraggled tree. His hands were warm against hers as always, bringing a pink stain to her cheeks just like the first time she had touched him.

They chose a selection of glass baubles to hang on the branches, frosted with delicate snowy white patterns. Draco dropped three, but they were easily repaired with a wave of Hermione's wand. '-Of course, none of them would've been broken in the first place if he'd just been allowed to use magic-' Came Draco's indignant reply. It had made Hemrione chuckle.

Thirty minutes later, all was left was the shining silver star in Hermione's hands.

"You should do it." She mumbled, proferring it out to him."I can't reach."

Draco tutted, pushing her hand away. He stepped behind her, and for a moment or two Hermione did not realise his intention. Then she felt his hands slip down her waist and she supressed a gasp. He lifted her into his arms, raising her to the height of the top of the tree with almost inhuman ease.

"Now try." Came his gentle voice in her ear. Hermione blushed, reaching to place the topper on top of the tree. He placed her down carefully, as if she might break, and Hermione felt the reluctant warmth of his arms leave her.

"It's perfect." Hermione said quietly, gazing at the marvel before her, the giant tree heaving with sparkly ornaments, the firelight flickering off the glittering tinsel.

"Not quite." Draco replied, flicking his wand towards the tree. The brightness of the lights seemed to increase threefold, flashing gently like tiny fireflies. Hermione felt a smile pull at her lips as she turned to face the Slytherin.

"Anyone would think you've been getting good at that." She teased.

Draco's mouth curved up into a smirk, pulling her into his arms. "Me, never?"

"Merry Christmas Draco." She whispered, inches away from his lips.

"Merry Christmas Hermione."

**A/N: Ok it took me ab 203874 years to get past Christmas but I think I've finally done it. Please leave reviews! Tell me your thoughts! They keep me motivated to update. Thank you 3 Love, - BJ**


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